




***** 





• X c- 0 °- 






SEEMONS 



AND 



EXPOSITORY LECTURES. 

/ 



BY THE LATE 

REV. JOHN LOGAN, F.R.S., 

OF EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND. 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION, BY KEY. D. D. WHEDON, D. D. 

EDITED BY 

"THE MINISTER'S LIBRARY ASSOCIATION." 



SIXTH EDITION. 



NEW YOKK : 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 346 & 348 BROADWAY. 

M. DCCC.LV. 



EXCHANGE. 

frrew Theol. Bern* 



CONTENTS. 



T ' PRODUCTION 5 

SERMON I. 

ON THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS. 

Psalm xxvii. 4. — One thing have I desired of the Lord, that 
will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the 
Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the 



Lord, and to inquire in his temple 13 

SERMON II. 

ON THE IMPORTANCE OF DEVOTION. 

Rom. xii. 11. — Fervent in spirit ;■ serving the Lord 18 

f SERMON III. 

ON early piety. 

Ecclbs. xif. 1.— Remember now thy Creator in the days of 
thy youth 23 

SERMON IV. 

ON TOE IMPROVEMENT OF TIMB, 

Coloss. iv. 5. — Redeeming the time 2G 

SERMON V. 

ON REVERENCE AND HOLY FEAR, 

Psalm iv. 4. — Stand in awe 33 

SERMON VI. 

ON DEATH. 

Job xxx. 23. — For I know that thou Avilt bring me to death, 
and to the house appointed for all living. . 37- 

SERMON VII. 

ON THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY OVER DEATH. 



1 Cor. xv. 55, 57. — O death ! where is thy sting? 0 grave ! 
where is thy victory? — Thanks be to God, who giveth 



us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ 41 

SERMON VIII. 

ON THE DOCTRINE OF A PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE. 

Psalm xcvii. 1.— The Lord rdgneth, let the earth re- 
joice 45 

SERMON IX. 

ON CHARITY. 

Isaiah lviii. 7.— Deal thy bread to the hungry ;— hide not 
thyself from thine own flesh 51 



SERMON X. 

ON THE DANGER OF SMALL TRANSGRESSIONS. 

Matthew v. 19. — "Whosoever therefore shall break one of 
these least commandments, and shall teach men so, ho 
shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven. . . 54 

SERMON XI. 

ON THE DELIVERANCE FROM REMORSE. 

Heb. xii. 24. — The blood of sprinkling, which speaketh bet- 



ter things than that of Abel 53 

SERMON XII. 

ON THE VALUE OF THE SOUL. 

Maek viii. 36. — For what shall it profit a man, if he shall 
gain the whole world, and lose his own soul '. 62 

SERMON XIII. 

ON THE CELEBRATION OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

Psalm xliii. 4.— I will go unto the altar of God, unto God 
my exceeding joy 65 

SERMON XIV. 

THE GOSPEL A SYSTEM OF SPIRITUAL JOY. 

Luke ii. 10. — Behold, I brina; you good tidings of great 

joy 70 

SERMON XV. 

ON THE DANGER OF DELAYING REPENTANCE. 

2 Cor. vi. 2. — Behold, now is the accepted time ; behold, 
now is the day of salvation 7S 

SERMON XVI. 

ON THE PARABLE OF THE PRODIGAL SON. 

Luke xv. 18. — I will arise and go to my Father. 82 

SERMON XVII. 



THE SPIRIT WHICH IS OF GOD AND THE SPIRIT OF THE WORLD 
DESCRIBED. 

1 Corinthians it 12. — Now we have received not the spirit 



of the world, but the spirit which is of God 85 

SERMON XVIII. 

ON THE INFLUENCE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

Luke xi. 13. — How much more shall your heavenly Father 
give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him ? 88 



CONTENTS. 



4 

SERMON XIX. 

ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 

Isaiah xxvi. 20. — Como my people, enter thou into thy 



chambers, and shut thy cloors about thee 92 

SERMON XX. 

ON TIIE UNHAPPY STATE OF THE WICKED. 

Isaiah lvii. 21. — There is no peace, saith my God, to the 
-wicked.. 95 



SERMON XXI. 

ON OBEDIENCE TO THE DIVINE LAW. 

Psalm lxxxviii. 1.— Give ear, 0 my people, to my law. 98 
SERMON XXII. 

ON JESUS CHRIST DYING FOR SINNERS. 

Romans y. 7, 8. — For scarcely for a righteous man will one 
die ; yet peradventure for a good man some would even 
dare to die. But God commandeth his love toward us, 
in that, while, we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. 100 

SERMON XXIII. 

ON TIIE CHARACTER OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 

Proverbs xii. 26. — The righteous is more excellent than 
his neighbor 108 

SERMON XXIY. 

RELIGION AN ANTIDOTE TO THE DANGERS AND TEMPTATIONS 
OF THE WORLD. 

Daniel xi. 32.— The people that do know their God shall 
be strong 105 

SERMON XXV. 

THE DANGER OF FOLLOWING A MULTITUDE TO DO EVIL. 

Exod. xxiii. 2.— Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do 
evil 107 

SERMON XXVI. 

ON LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 

Psalm cxxii*6.— Pray for the peace of Jerusalem 109 

SERMON XXVII. 

ON DEATH. 

Hebrews ix. 27. — It is appointed to men once to die; but 
after this the judgment 112 

SERMON XXVIII. 

THE CHRISTIAN LIFE A LIFE OF EASE AND PLEASURE. 

Matthew xi. 80.— My yoke is easy and my burden is 
light 117 

SERMON XXIX. 

THE EXPEDIENCY OF JESUS CHRIST APPEARING IN A 
SUFFERING STATE. 

Hebrews ii. 10. — Eor it became him, for whom are all 
things, and by "whom are all things, in bringing many 
sons unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation 
perfect through sufferings 120 



SERMON XXX. 

ON GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 

Galatians vi. 14.— God forbid that I should glory, save in 



the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. 124 

SERMON XXXI. 

ON THE SALVATION OF MAN BEING ACCOMPLISHED. 

John xix. 30— It is finished 12S 

SERMON XXXII. 

JESUS CHRIST THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE. 

John xi. 25.— I am the Resurrection and the Life 135 

SERMON XXXIII. 

ON THE SUFFERINGS OF JESUS CHRIST_ 

Luke xxii. 44. — And being in an agony 140 

SERMON XXXIV. 

ON THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS CHRIST. 

Matthew xxviii. 6. — Come, see the place where the Lord 
lay 145 

SERMON XXXV. 

ON A LIFE OF PROGRESSIVE VIRTUE. 



Proverbs iv. 18. — The path of the just is as the shining 
light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. 150 

SERMON XXXVI. 

ON REPE.NTANCE. 

Acts xvii. 30.— And the times of this ignorance God winked 
at ; but now commandeth all men every where to re- 



pent 158 

SERMON XXXVII. 

ON THE VIRTUE OF MEEKNESS. 

Matthew v. 5.— Blessed are the meek, for they shall in- 
herit the earth 166 

LECTURE I. 

THE CONDITION OF THE GOOD MAN AND THE BAD MAN 
• DESCRIBED. 

Psalm i.— Blessed is the man, &c 170 

LECTURE II. 

ON THE DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE. 

Psalm xxiv. 1-7.— The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness 
thereof, &c 174 

LECTURE III. 



ON THE PARABLE OF THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS. 

Luke xvi. 19-31.— There was a certain rich man, &c. . . 178 
LECTURE IV. 

ON THE PARABLE OF THE FOOLISH VIRGINS. 

Matthew xxv. 1-10.— Then shall the kingdom of heaven 



be likened unto ten virgins, &c 1S2 

LECTURE V. 

ON THE TRANSFIGURATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 

Luke ix. 28-36.— And it came to pass about an eight days 
after these sayings, he took Peter, &c 185 



INTRODUCTION. 

By KEY. D. D. WHEDON, D. D. 

It is now about three quarters of a century since the following discourses 
were delivered by their eloquent and accomplished author in the ordi- 
nary routine of pulpit duty in one of the provincial towns of Scotland. 
Though he won thereby a deserved celebrity with a wide circle of friends 
and admirers, and enjoyed the personal intimacy of some of the most 
distinguished men of his native country, yet his name has not obtained 
a conspicuous place in the literary world ; and even ( these sermons, on 
which his claim upon our notice principally depends, have been known and 
appreciated mainly by the comparatively few, even of professional readers, 
whose taste leads them into an extended perusal of pulpit literature. An 
American edition, published some fifty years ago, having long since been 
out of print, it is believed that a republication will be acceptable to our 
American public. We venture to present them not only as a choice model 
for the aspirant for professional excellence, but as a valuable addition to 
our religious literature, well calculated to exert a purifying influence upon 
the public mind, and fully entitled to take an honorable and permanent 
position in our libraries, as a standard sacred classic. 

John Logan was born in the parish of Fulla, county of Mid-Lothian, 
in the year 1748. His parents belonged to that class of dissenters, who 
call themselves Burgher Seceders ; and were distinguished for rectitude, 
benevolence and piety. As John exhibited, in addition to these qualities, 
early proofs of superior genius, his gratified parents fostered his love of 
learning, and resolved to educate him to the sacred profession. Having 
prepared at the parochial school, he entered the University of Edinburgh, 
where he formed a friendship with Dr. Eobertson, which continued through 
life. The congeniality of genius cemented a friendship also between Logan 
and Michael Bruce, a young poet, whom premature death deprived of his 



6 



INTRODUCTION. 



fame. Logan paid to the deceased young poet the tribute of publishing 
his poems in a small volume, in which he inserted also some poems of his 
own, leaving the respective shares of the two a matter of doubt among the 
friends of both. 

Having completed his theological course, and entered the ministry, 
Logan soon became celebrated for his eloquence, and received a unanimous 
call from the kirk-session, and incorporations of South Leith, to become one 
of the ministers of that- church and parish ; and he was accordingly or- 
dained in the year 1773. He discharged the duties of his ministerial office 
with steadiness and fidelity. His talents won the admiration and friend- 
ship of such men as Kobertson and Blair. It was during his ministry at 
this place that the sermons forming the collection of this volume were 
preached. 

The elegant taste and fervid genius of Logan looked with longing eyes 
to the attractive fields of general literature, poetry and belles-lettres. 
Having delivered, with much success, a course of Lectures on the Philoso- 
phy of History, his friends proposed him for that chair in the University, 
but without success, as that Professorship seems by custom to have been 
appropriated by the legal jn'ofession. He subsequently published the sub- 
stance of his Lectures. He published at different times poems lyric, 
elegiac and dramatic. The same genius which shines so resplendently in 
his sermons, sheds its clear and beautiful light through his poems, but not 
with the same degree of splendor. An imagination pure and mild rather 
than intense ; a taste refined and perfect ; a sensibility alive to the gentler 
aspects of nature pervade his poems. Something of the excessive sensi- 
tiveness of the poet, too, we are sorry to say, resided in the personal char- 
acter of Logan. The want of the full tide of literary success deeply im- 
pressed him with feelings of disappointment. Melancholy brooded over his 
spirit. Dissatisfaction arose between his parishioners and their pastor ; 
in anguish of heart he resigned the ministry, and devoted his few remain- 
ing days exclusively to literary pursuits. In the bloom of his years his 
health declined, and he closed his life December 25th, 1788. The tears 
of friends warmly attached to his memory mingled with the regrets of 
those from whom he had suffered, over the grave of the lamented Logan. 

Two years after his death, in 1790, a volume of his sermons was given 
to the public under the inspection of Drs. Robertson, Blair & Hardy. A 
second volume followed in the following year. Both volumes attained a 
fourth edition in 1800. Several of his literary writings, we believe, have 
never been published. In regard to his secular productions, posterity will 
not change the verdict of his contemporaries. A measure of merit, a degree 
of beauty, a gentle attractivenesss, will be readily conceded them ; but 
amid the crowd of aspirants for the attention of the world, that mighty 



INTRODUCTION. 



7 



arbiter has no time to spend on secondary merit. Less and less are grow- 
ing the chances of respectable poets. To a choice quire of superlative 
genuises alone, doe's ^glutted and fastidious Public daily incline to confine 
its ear. For the gentle spirit of our friend as a poet then there is no hope. 
But why not be satisfied with the clustering honors that gather and must 
gather around the pulpit orator ? Did he undervalue — we cannot believe 
it — or did he not anticipate, that while all his literary efforts would be 
abandoned to perish, the world would never let those sermons die ? We 
shall not condemn him, that his sympathizing breast sighed at the thought 
of being forgotten by his fellow men ; for even scripture promises it as a 
blessing to the just to be held in everlasting remembrance. But we seem 
to ourselves to wish that the despondencies that withered his life could have 
been cheered away with the presentiment, that though the memorials of 
himself which he wished to perpetuate, should perish, there were other 
memorials in which he less trusted, which should stand the test of time. 
Or rather that his soul might have listened to the voice of the divine spirit, 
teaching him wherein his great strength lay, and guiding him back to his 
lofty post of duty and honor, to put on a mightier manhood still, and 
raise still nobler monuments in the field of pulpit literature. 

For our own part, w r e think a great sermon to be quite as noble an in- 
tellectual performance as a great poem. It is as great a genius that pro- 
duces it. There are thousands we know to whom the name of sermon is 
a synonim with tedium. And as many thousands to whom poetry is just 
what the beauty of the starry firmament is to a herd of chewing kine — 
nothing. But a sermon just as truly as a poem, to gain our suffrage must 
not be respectable. And we aver it costs just as much' genius to lift a 
sermon out of the respectable as it does a poem. We suppose the number 
of sermons delivered is immensely greater than that of poems written ; 
and the immense mass of these are respectable. They must be so, and can 
afford to be so, for they are produced for plain, practical, homely use. And 
this utility is, in the more complimentary and the less complimentary sense 
of the term, respectable. And the very fact that of the immense number 
of sermons printed, so few survive their generation, fully proves that he who 
raises a sermon into an imperishable elevation, is greater than he who writ es 
an immortal poem. Poorly do we think of an earthly immortality, such 
as men bestow on genius, compared with that immortality and eternal life 
which God bestows on goodness. Yet if the {Saviour promised to the Mary 
who anointed him for his burial, that her alabaster box should be spoken 
of in all the world for a memorial of her, it may be in accordance with the 
great Master's purpose, that his servants, even in this world, shall have no 
cause to envy the monuments of the worldly great. 

There are minds to whom the aspiration' or endeavor after excellence in 



8 



INTRODUCTION. 



pulpifc performance is esteemed an unhallowed ambition. To aim at a cul- 
tivation of the natural powers, to study the models, or practise the precepts 
of masters in that department, to form rules of criticism and apply that crit- 
icism to another's or own pulpit productions, in fine to construct a homiletic 
art, or accumulate a pulpit literature, is in their view, either in fact or in 
tendency, a vainglorious desecration of the sacred office, and a dishonor and 
dismissal of the Divine Spirit, by whose direct promptings alone the preacher 
should spontaneously speak. Now that there are dangers here, against which 
the preacher should carefully guard, we would not only concede, but most 
solemnly and warningly maintain. But our present purpose is to suggest to 
these mistaken consciences, that there is just as great a danger on the other 
side. He who would avoid an unholy ambition by discarding all endeavor 
after excellence, or would honor a divine aid, by abdicating the proper culti- 
vation and energetic use of his own powers, will neither secure thereby his own 
higher holiness, nor attain the divine approbation on his own inertness. The 
danger also is that this prohibition of pulpit criticism and culture will pro- 
duce an indolent presumption and a crude coarseness ; which will forfeit all 
power over an intellectual age by clothing religion in the garb of a repulsive 
fanaticism. The true rule on this subject is a plain one. A pious divine of 
the last century gave this striking advice to a young minister : " Prepare 
yourself as laboriously for preaching, as if there were no Holy Spirit ; and 
then fling yourself as fully upon Divine aid, as if you had made no prepa- 
ration." This embraces the whole case. In his educational preparation, -let 
the young minister labor, and in preparing her ministry let the church work, 
as if man must do all ; and pray then and trust, as if Grod would do all. This 
secures us equally from the Antinomianism of expecting God to honor our 
indolence ; and from the Pelagianism of setting up an independence of the 
Divine Spirit. It leaves us under the obligation to use all human applian- 
ces to secure excellence in the sacred profession. It opens wide the field for 
homiletic study, for criticism, model, and pulpit literature. It bids us 
use all these means in glad trust for the Divine blessing upon the 
whole. He who, in the engrossment of his preparations, forgets or loses 
that spirit of trust, loses, in fact, the deepest, richest, clivinest delight in 
duty as well as the truest aid to his sacred eloquence. Let him never 
fear to shape his periods to the most finished perfection ; but let him 
never forget that, be his periods ever so rhetorically perfect, without that 
divine element impregnating them, they will not be divinely eloquent. The 
rhetorical round and sound will be there ; but there are tests by which he 
may sadly know, that the life and soul are wanting. 

It is not the minister alone who is in danger of a dishonest forgetfulness 
of the bounden object of his efforts in the mere literature of his profession. 
The advocate may, as some most eminent advocates have done, most unjust- 



INTRODUCTION. 



9 



ly sacrifice the true interests of his client to the glory of a splendid oratori- 
cal performance. The Parliamentary debater often forgets the success of the 
measure he supports, in the acquirement of fame as an orator or place as a 
politician. The minister has an immortal soul for his client, and the attain- 
ment of salvation is the measure he supports. Either of the three may for- 
get his cause and remember only himself. Yet it may be affirmed as a gen- 
eral truth that in all these departments, a literature, a critique, and models 
are the highest means of the most complete success. In rude times and in 
extraordinary emergencies, the natural orator of the backwoods may en- 
trance the border jury, congregation or legislature, with a magic eloquence. 
But it is not in view of extraordinaries that we must make our ordinary 
provisions. Ordinarily, the entire arrangements of professional training 
are productive of the highest powers of performance. And with the cau- 
tions we have stated if our positions are correct, we may apply the principles 
of criticism as honestly and as purely, as keenly and as coolly, to the per- 
formances of the pulpit, as to those of the bar, or the senate— to the pro- 
ductions of the pencil or the chisel. We may analyze a sermon as we would 
a symmetrical piece of architecture or a finished poem. We may discuss 
what powers of mind are brought to bear in the performance; what faults are 
committed and excellencies attained ; and especially what effective adapta- 
tions it has for its purposes ; how well it is calculated to win attention, to 
fasten conviction, to stir up the deeper feelings of our nature. 

Why should the children of light be less wise in their generation than 
the children of this world ? Against what an intellectual competition must the 
pulpit of the present day contend ! What a vivid polished spirit-stirring 
literature is starting up on every side, around us ! Almost every class of 
people are, now, readers ; and every class of readers ace. met, at every step, 
by the fascinating, stimulating, intoxicating aliment just suited to their 
tastes and appetites. From the yellow-covered twenty-five-cent pirate tale, 
engendered by the satanic press and hawked by the devil's colporteurs, 
through an incessant succession of periodicals, — newspaper, magazine and 
quarterly, — up to the sleefc-coated novel, poem, history or travels ; there is 
a most formidable power of literature, all-alive and active, fresh from the 
perusal of which our congregations come to the presence of the pulpit. This 
literature is a rival with which the preacher is forced to compete. Nor has 
it any scruple or any difficulty to unite the most elaborate power of language 
to the most intense development of passion. It has, too, a class of most 
excitable passions, to which it can appeal, for which the pulpit can show no 
quarter. Yet, undismayed by this formidable array, let the preacher take 
on his armor of celestial proof, burnished with all the appliances of human 
diligence and skill. Knowing that from this war he has no retreat, let him 
learn, even from his foe, the policy of success ; and appropriate to a holy 



10 



INTRODUCTION. 



purpose that equipment, and those tactics, which may be as effective for good 
as for evil. Let him clothe himself with every possible accomplishment ; 
let him not hesitate to avail himself of all the precepts and all the models 
of the great masters ; let him appropriate all the advantages of natural 
and acquired elocution ; let him task the powers of language wherewith 
to clothe his conceptions ; and let him be assured that if his heart be 
warm, and his genius susceptible of a kindle, there are within his reach 
themes of beauty, sublimity and power, to fascinate, to thrill, to excite 
the deepest emotions of the heart, to arouse the utmost profound of the 
human soul. 

And if mastery in any department is to be learned from the masters, to 
few masters of pulpit style in our language, can our ministry resort, superior 
to Logan. He possesses the power of so analyzing the topic he selects, as to 
present, with a natural, and even inartificial division, the varied phases of 
which it is susceptible, constructed into a symmetrical whole. He exhibits, 
in a rare degree, that imagination, which, under the law of truth, shapes 
powerful conceptions of eternal realities ; or unfolds in vivid colorings, the 
varied events, characters and sceneries so richly abounding in the volume of 
revelation. Though loving not the rugged paths of controversy, he firmly 
and faithfully expounds and applies to the conscience, heart, and life the 
great practical doctrines of our common Christianity. In the richness and 
range of his language, in the graceful swell of his ever varying periods, in 
the animated expansion of his climactic paragraphs, he satisfies the fancy : 
while in the chasteness and manliness of his style, in the purity of its dic- 
tion, and the burnish of its texture, he may challenge the severest taste, and 
assert himself a place among the English classics. And the whole is so 
warmed and living with a deej3 devotional feeling, a rich and fervid zeal, as, 
coming most manifestly from the heart of the preacher, searches, pervades, 
and fills the heart of the hearer. 

It may by some be thought that 3 in accordance somewhat with the lax 
theology of his time, the way of faith is not sufficiently developed, in his 
sermons. Yet he, certainly, belonged not to the school of pulpit moralists, 
who borrowed their text from Paul, and their sermon from Epictetus. 
Christ and his cross, heaven and hell, repentance and reformation, are his 
momentous themes. He may, like St. James, have fused the doctrine of 
faith into his system, rather than brought it out with genuine Pauline pun- 
gency. At the present day, when the preacher would bring the sinner to 
close quarters, and elicit from his soul the immediate act by which he con- 
signs himself to Christ for salvation, he will perhaps find some exhibition 
of the doctrine of faith more explicit, than was usually found in the preach- 
ing of those times, necessary to his purpose. 

The sermons of Logan are eloquence, purely within the central truths of 



INTRODUCTION. 



11 



the gospel ; within the legitimate range of the pulpit ; and within the com- 
prehension of our ordinary congregations. We know not what was the style 
of Logan's delivery ; but if the delivery was in any way commensurate with 
the composition , we kDOW not how they could have failed of being most im- 
pressive. We know not how a people could well sit under such a ministry 
without being made better. We know not how men within reach, could fail 
to feel their steps attracted to such a ministry. We know not how such a 
ministry, spread over this and every other land, could fail of being a rich 
blessing, if not the saving of the world. 

His is not so much that originality which startles us with the announce- 
ment of a new truth, as that more practical originality which invests estab- 
lished truths with new zest and freshness. Under his lucid touches, the rust 
of common-place disappears from that old truth, a new clearness beams upon 
it, a new beauty beams from it. Then a brighter lustre and a richer glow ; 
then a more radiant glory and a blaze of splendor new and dazzling. Our 
attention is arrested ; we are borne along on the tide of increasing interest ; 
our feelings rise with the opening vistas ; and we close the discourse, dissat- 
isfied with its brevity, yet with hearts warmed, with views brightened, and 
with a grateful trust, that we are being made better Christians and better 
men. And, then, there is such a variety and spontaneousness as to make 
him seem inexhaustible. We learn to love the mind which was the cease- 
less fountain of such beauty and power; and we drop a tear at the thought 
that his closing clays were shaded with sorrow. 



ft 



f 



SERMONS. 



SERMON I. 

ON THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS 
INSTITUTIONS. 

Psal. xxvn. 4. — "One thing have I desired of 
the Lord, that will I seek after ; that I may 
dwell in the house of the Lord all the days 
of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, 
and to inquire in his temple." 

David, the author of this psalm, is much 
celebrated in the sacred Scriptures. As a 
man, he was not without faults ; but as a 
king, he shin es with uncommon lustre. He 
distinguished himself in early youth, as 
the champion of his native land ; in fight- 
ing the battles of Israel he became the 
hero of bis age ; and at last he ascended 
the throne, on which he sat with much 
splendor during many years. He was the 
founder of the J ewish monarchy. From 
being separate tribes, he made the Jews a 
nation. Their judge in peace, as well as 
their leader in war, he secured by bis 
councils what he had gained by his arms, 
and gave to J udea a name and a renown 
among the kingdoms of the East. To the 
bravery of a warrior, and the wisdom of a 
statesman, he added what in all ages has 
been no less admired, the accomplishments 
of a poet or bard. " The sweet Psalmist 
of Israel" consecrated his harp to the 
praises of the Lord, and composed to it 
sacred strains, that have ministered to the 
improvement and to the devotion of suc- 
ceeding times, till this day. 

Notwithstanding all his other engage- 
ments, he found time for the exercises of 
religion ; notwithstanding all the pleasures 
and honors of a throne, he found his chief 
happiness in the house of the Lord. " One 
thing have I desired of the Lord, that will 
I seek after, that I may dwell in the house 



of the Lord all the days of my life." 
Whenever his favorite subject presents it- 
self, he takes fire, and speaks of it, not 
only with zeal, but with transport. ;c How 
amiable are thy tabernacles, 0 Lord of 
hosts ! My soul longeth, yea, even 
fainteth for the courts of the Lord : my 
heart and my flesh cry out for the living 
God." 

It becomes then a subject worthy of our 
attention, to inquire, What there is in the 
public institutions of religion, to have 
rendered them an object of so great im- 
portance to the king of Israel ? This 
will appear, if we consider their influence 
on men, with respect to their religious ca- 
pacity ; with respect to their moral char- 
acter ; with respect to their political state; 
and with respect to their domestic life. 

In the first place, let us consider the in- 
fluence of religious institutions upon men, 
with respect to their religious capacity. 

There are many qualities which we share 
in common with the inferior animals. In 
the acuteness of the external senses, some 
of them excel our species. They have a 
reason of their own ; they make approach- 
es to human intelligence, and are led by 
an instinct of nature to associate with one 
another. They have also their virtues, 
and exhibit such examples of affection, of 
industry, and of courage, as give lessons 
to mankind. But in all their actions they 
discover no sense of Deity, and no traces 
of religion. It was reserved to be the 
glory' of man, that he alone should be ad- 
mitted into the presence of his Creator, 
and be rendered capable of knowing and. 
adoring the perfections of the Almighty. 
As piety is the distinguishing mark of the 
human race, a tendency to the exercise 
thereof, is in some degree natural to the 



14 



SERMON I. 



mind. When we look up to heaven, and 
behold the sun shining in glory, or the 
moon and the stars walking in brightness, 
untaught nature prompts us to adore Him 
that made them, to bow down and worship 
in the temple not made with hands. When 
we are surrounded by dangers on every 
side, overwhelmed with deep affliction, by 
the law of our nature we tend to some 
superior Being for safety and relief : or 
when we are surprised with a sudden flow 
of unexpected prosperity, spontaneously 
we lift up our eyes and hands to heaven, 
to pour forth the grateful effusions of the 
heart to our unseen Benefactor. 

As there are principles, then, in human 
nature, which incline men to religion, and 
principles also which incline them to soci- 
ety, it would not have been extraordinary, 
if the combined influence of the religious 
and associating principles had been so 
strong as to have prompted men to have 
assembled in public, for the purposes of 
devotion, although no law had been given 
to that end. But it was not left to this. 
Among all the nations of the world, the 
public interested itself in the cause ; the 
legislative authority interposed its sanc- 
tion, and kings and lawgivers encouraged 
the propensity of the people to religion. 
It required no profound wisdom to foresee 
the manifold advantages that the public 
worship of a Deity would introduce among 
men. Accordingly temples were every 
where built, sacred ceremonies were insti- 
tuted, an order of men was appointed to 
officiate in holy things, and certain days 
were set apart for the people to join in the 
celebration of divine worship. Indeed, as 
to the objects, and the manner of worship, 
little care was taken. The magistrate 
gave his authority to the current belief, 
though ever so absurd and ridiculous, and 
established that form of religion which the 
people were best disposed to receive. It 
was thought sufficient, if by public and 
solemn acts of piety, a sense of Deity, and 
feelings of religion, could be impressed, 
and frequently renewed in the minds of 
men. But in some nations this practice, so 
highly beneficial to mankind, was enjoyed 
by an authority superior to that of human 
governors. Grod himself, in the system of 
laws which he delivered to his ancient 
people, hallowed the seventh day,- and ap- 



pointed other festivals in which the people 
should assemble together in order to join 
in the services of the sanctuary. In what 
concerns the celebration of the Sabbath, 
Christianity confirms the Mosaic law. 
Our Saviour, whose practice ought to be 
a rule of life to Christians, attended upon 
the public worship in the Jewish syna- 
gogues ; and the apostles followed his ex- 
ample, till by their labors in the ministry, 
they had gathered together, in one place, 
a sufficient number of converts to form a 
church. Then they constituted regular 
assemblies of Christians, they ordained 
proper persons to preside in the public wor- 
ship, and both by their precept and exam- 
ple, recommended a constant attendance 
on these meetings of the faithful. 

That there must be an established re- 
ligion in every state, is a principle in 
which not only Christians, but infidels, 
have been agreed. In order that the pub- 
lic religion may be productive of any good 
effects, it is necessary that it make a deep 
impression upon the minds of the people. 
But if it were not for our assembling to- 
gether on the Lord's day, for public wor- 
ship, that form of Christianity which is es- 
tablished in this country would pehaps 
take too feeble a hold of the mind, to pro- 
duce its proper effects. The Christian 
religion is very different from those sys- 
tems of superstition which prevailed in 
the Pagan world. The Heathen religion 
had attractions for every feeling of the hu- 
man frame. It contained every thing 
that could strike the senses, or please the 
imaginations of men. All the apparatus 
of false religion, which at once amuses and 
engages the mind, was exhibited ; ceremo- 
nies, pompous festivals, costly sacrifices, 
were continually passing before the eyes of 
the worshipper. In the majesty of the 
temple, and the splendor of the worship, 
the Deity seemed to be present. Ancient 
superstition introduced the fine arts into 
her train, called the powers of genius to 
her aid, and employed the painter and the 
poet to hold out her charms to the world. 

Yery different was that religion of which 
Jesus Christ was the author. When the 
Son of Grod descended, he appeared not 
like the idols of the nations. The Chris- 
tian religion is pure, spiritual, divine. It 
is the religion of the mind and the heart ; 



ON THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS. 



15 



the worship of God, who is a spirit^ in 
spirit and in trjith. There is nothing 
here bat the simplicity of truth and the 
majesty of reason to persuade the world. 
Man, however, is not a pure intelligence, 
and reason is not the only attribute of his 
nature. Were it not, therefore, for the 
mode of communication by discourse in 
public assemblies, Christianity, in its sim- 
plest form, could never be a popular relig- 
ion. It might employ the leisure of phil- 
osophic men ; it might operate its effect 
upon the few who are given to inquiry ; 
but it never could engage the generality 
of mankind. They, who have not consid- 
ered the subject, cannot possibly conceive 
the astonishing difference there is between 
written and spoken language ; between the 
dead letter that appears to the eye, and 
the living voice that comes to the heart. 
The same discourse that in a popular as- 
sembly would raise the passions of the 
audience to the highest pitch ; send it 
abroad in print, and it will often have no 
effect at all. Add to these, that it is to 
the meetings of the faithful, that the prom- 
ise of the divine presence is made. In the 
gates of Zion, God delights to dwell ; and 
when his disciples are gathered together, 
Jesus has promised to be in the midst of 
them. True piety indeed is not confined to 
the sanctuary. High is the pleasure, and 
great the benefit of private devotion. .But 
sure I am, that they who have entered in- 
to the spirit, and tasted the pleasures, of 
devotion in secret, will not be thereby 
prevented from approaching to God in the 
ordinances of public worship. Society 
heightens every feeling, and improves 
every delight. All that charms the eye 
or the ear, or the imagination or the heart, 
is attended with double pleasure, when 
we share it in the company of others. In 
the presence of striking and exemplary 
piety, the careless worshipper will become 
devout, and the devout will become fer- 
vent. A holy emulation will rise in the 
bosoms of the faithful : the ardor will 
spread from breast to breast, and the pas- 
sions of one inflame the passions of all. 
May I not appeal to your own experience, 
and ask, When you have been in the Spir- 
it on the Lord's day, when the word of 
life was spoken from the heart to the heart, 
have you not felt that there was a divinity 



in virtue, have you not found yourselves 
as if translated from earth to heaven, and 
experienced the emotion of mind which 
the Patriarch felt, when he awoke from 
his dream, and cried out in rapture, 
" Surely the Lord is in this place ! This 
is none other than the house of God, and 
this is the gate of heaven ? " 

Secondly, Let us view the effect of re- 
ligious institutions upon men, with regard 
to their moral character. 

Whatever brings men together, and 
connects them in society, has a tendency 
to civilize and improve them. Especially 
when they assemble together for such im- 
portant purposes as the worship of a Deity, 
this will be the effect. There is some- 
thing in the very idea of drawing nigh to 
God, that inspires virtue. When men ac- 
customed to meet together as busy and 
as social creatures, assemble at stated 
times as rational and immortal beings, a 
sense of propriety will prompt them to act 
up to that high character. When the 
sons of God come to present themselves 
before the Lord, whatever is displeasing 
to God, and hostile to men, will vanish 
from their mind. The connection between 
such exercises of -piety, and the practice 
of virtue, is nearer and more intimate 
than superficial reasoners are apt to im- 
agine. There are indeed pretences to re- 
ligion, without any virtue, as there are 
pretences to virtue without any religion ; 
but whoever in reality possesses the fear 
of God, will be thereby determined to 
keep his commandments. It must be ob* 
vious at first view, that the sense of a 
Supreme Being, the inspector of human 
affairs, the patron of virtue, the avenger 
of sin, and the rewarder of righteousness, 
has a powerful tendency to strengthen 
moral obligation, to annex a new sanction 
to the laws, and to inspire purity into the 
manners of a people. 

By the operation of such a principle, 
open violence will be restrained, and secret 
enmity will be checked. ' Society will as- 
sume a happier form, the insolence of the 
oppressor will be humbled, and the wild 
passions of the licentious be subdued. 
What the Scripture calls, " the power 
of the world to come," is felt strongly 
through every corner of this world. 
Heaven improves the earth, and the life 



16 



SERMON I 



which is to come, is a source of happi- 
ness to the life which now is. There 
are, indeed, I acknowledge, to the honor 
of the human kind, there are persons in 
the world who feel that the possession of 
good dispositions is their best reward, who 
would follow goodness for its own sake, 
and do their duty, because it is their duty, 
although there were neither rewards nor 
punishments to come. But I know as 
well, that the world is not composed of 
such persons. Men in general are govern- 
ed by their passions, their interest, the 
prevailing bias of their minds ; and when- 
ever their passions, their interest, or the 
bias of their mind, stand in one scale, and 
their duty in the other, it is very evident 
where the balance will incline. To such 
persons you might declaim for ever to no 
purpose, on the beauty of virtue, and the 
harmony of a well governed mind ; they 
hear you not ; they are deaf to the voice 
of the moral charmer: nothing less than 
" Thus saith the Lord," will influence 
their conduct. The unjust judge in the 
parable represents and characterizes the 
great body of mankind ; if they fear not 
God, neither will they regard men. 

Thus, if the public institutions of re- 
ligion were laid aside, private virtue would 
not long remain behind. Men in general 
have no principle of moral conduct but re- 
ligion, and if that were taken away, they 
would work all impurity with greediness, 
whenever they could withdraw from the 
public eye. Human laws would often be 
of little avail, without a sense of divine 
legislation; and the sanctions of men have 
little force, unless they were enforced by 
the authority of God. There would then 
be no security for the public peace ; the 
mutual confidence between man and man 
would be destroyed ; the bond which 
keeps society together would be broken ; 
oaths would become mere words of course, 
and an appeal to the Great God of Heaven 
no more regarded, than if he were an image 
of stone. Human life would be thrown 
into confusion, the safety of mankind would 
be endangered, and the moral world totter 
to its ruin, if such a pillar were to fall. 
And what is it that maintains and spreads 
religious principles in the world ? What 
is it that keeps alive on the minds of the 
people, the fear of God and the belief of 



his providence ? It is the public institu- 
tions of religion ; it is tfie observance of 
the Lord's day ; it is our assembling to- 
gether in this place, for the celebration of 
divine worship. The people, in general, 
have no religious principles, and no rule 
of life, but what they learn here ; and if 
these churches were once shut up, the 
hand of the civil magistrate would soon 
force them open, in order to reclaim the 
criminals that would thus be let loose 
upon the world. 

In the third place, let us view the effect 
of religious institutions upon men, with re- 
gard to their 'political state. 

The political systems that take place in 
the world, the facility with which the 
many are governed by the few, is one of 
the most wonderful things in the history 
of man. That mankind in all ages, and 
in all countries, should allow a few of 
their number to divide this globe among 
them ; to appropriate to themselves the 
possessions, distinctions and honors, and 
leave nothing to the majority but burdens 
to bear, if we had not beheld it from the 
first, would have appeared one of the most 
astonishing of all events. Would it be at 
all suprising to hear a man struck with a 
sense of this state of things, complain 
thus : " Is nature unequal in the care of 
her children? A mother to some, and a 
stepmother to others ? Has she appointed 
me to labor in the sweat of my brow, and 
another to riot in the fruit of my labors ? 
No. The fault is not in nature. She has 
no favorites. She gives to all her sons an 
equal right to inherit the earth. The 
fault is in them who tamely bend their 
necks to the yoke, who kneel and kiss the 
rod which the haughty lord waves over 
their heads. It never surely was the will 
of Heaven, that the worthy should be 
scorned by the vile, and the brave be 
trampled upon by the coward. Cannot I 
then find a band of men as valiant and as 
determined as myself, to rectify these ca- 
prices of fortune, to vindicate the rights 
of nature, and restore mankind to their 
original inheritance? By doing violence 
at first, this usurpation on nature was 
made ; and by a similar violence, nature 
requires that her reign be restored." 
What is it that prevents such a spirit as 
I have been now describing, from fre- 



ON THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS, 



17 



quently breaking out? What prevents 
bloodshed and devastation, and all the 
evils of war? What prevents the world 
from being turned upside down ? Nothing 
so much as the influence of religious prin- 
ciples upon the minds of men. Christian- 
ity gives honor to civil government, as 
being the ordinance of God, and enjoins 
subjection to the laws, under his own aw- 
ful sanctions. 

And not only by particular precepts, 
but by its secret and less visible influence, 
it prepares the minds of men for submis- 
sion to lawful authority. When we meet 
together in this place, under the sanction 
of law, and under the protection of the 
civil magistrate, we are put in mind of our 
relation to the state and of our duty to the 
higher powers. Fear God and honor the 
King, have more than a local connection 
in Scripture.* Obedience to spiritual au- 
thority paves the way for subjection to the 
civil power. Hence wise legislators have, 
even on this account, favored the pro- 
gress of religion : hence those who have 
attempted innovations in government, ap- 
plied, in the first place, to the ministers 
of religion, and endeavored to gain the 
pulpit on their side. Julian, known by 
the name of the apostate, the most formi- 
dable enemy the Christians ever had, was so 
sensible of the influence and of the effects 
of preaching to the people, that he appoint- 
ed a similar institution among the heathen. 

" My son, fear thou the Lord and the 
King," (said the wisest of mankind), 
"and meddle not wit 1 ", them that are 
given to change." In confirmation, we may 
observe, that men, characterized as given 
to change, have either, from infidelity, not 
attended upon ordinances, or from enthu- 
siasm, been above them : for/ who have 
been innovators and disturbers ? who have 
been the authors of seditions and rebel- 
lions ? who have been the enemies of order 
and civil government, in many an age % a 
mixture of atheists and fanatics ; two 
classes of men, who, though seemingly 
opposite, have been found in close bonds 
of union. 

In the fourth and last place, we have to 
consider the influence of religious institu- 
tions upon men, with respect to domestic 
life. 

* See 1 Peter ii. 11. 
2 



It is chiefly on account of their domes- 
tic situation, that we can pronounce men 
happy or miserable. Here the pleasures 
are enjoyed which sweeten life; here the 
pains are felt which embitter our days. 
No uneasiness abroad will sit heavy on a 
man, when the pleasing reflection rises in 
his mind, that he has happiness at home : 
no enjoyment from without will give real 
and lasting satisfaction, when he knows 
that he has a curse in his own house. 

It is no small advantage attending the 
institutions of divine worship, that they 
minister to the happiness of domestic life. 
A new bond will be added to the conju- 
gal union, when those whom it connects 
walk to the House of Grod in company, 
take sweet counsel with one another, and 
set out jointly in the way that leads to 
life. Watered by the dews of heaven, 
which fail here, the olive plants will 
flourish round your table. What sacred 
sensations will fill the bosom of a parent, 
when, viewing his family sitting at the 
feet of Jesus, he says, in the fulness of a 
grateful heart, "Lord ! behold me, and 
the children whom thou hast given 
me ! " 

There is a beauty, also, when the rich 
and the poor, when the high and the low, 
who seldom meet together on other occa- 
sions, assemble here in one place, one great 
family, iu the presence of their common 
Lord, when they are stripped of every ad- 
ventitious circumstance, and where virtue 
makes the only distinction among them. 
It is the image of those golden times 
when society began ; it is the image of the 
state which is to come, when G-od shall be 
all in all. 

Such are the effects of religious institu- 
tions upon men, with respect to their re- 
ligious capacity, their moral character,, 
their political state, and their domestie 
life. 

Whoever, therefore, habitually absents 
himself from attending on public ordi- 
nances, has to answer for it to his G-od, to 
his neighbors, to his country, and to his 
family. He partakes with other men in 
their sins ; he associates with the enemies 
of mankind ; and does what in him lies, to 
undermine the basis of which the order 
and happiness of civil society is built. He 
teaches the false swearer to take the name 



18 



SERMON II. 



of God in vain ; he directs the midnight 
robber to his neighbor's house ; and he 
delivers into the hand of the assassin a 
dagger, to shed innocent blood. 

But, blessed be God ! that, corrupted 
as the world is, there are not wanting in- 
stances of exemplary piety, in every sta- 
tion of life ; not only in the middle, the 
lower, and the higher, but in the highest 
of all. While piety shines, as it now does, 
from the Throne ; while it has the beam 
of Majesty to adorn it ; let none of the 
subjects fail in copying the pattern : and 
while we meet together in this place, let 
us remember, that many who have wor- 
shipped, in times past, within these walls, 
are now in the Higher House, in the 
Church of the First-born, in the assem- 
bly of Angels, and in that Temple where 
the beatific presence of the Lord displays his 
glory, in a manner which it hath not enter- 
ed into the heart of man to-conceive. 



SERMON II. 

ON THE IMPORTANCE OF DEVOTION. 

Rom. xn. 11. — " Fervent in spirit; serv- 
ing the Lord." 

The manners of mankind are perpetually 
varying. Two nations differ not more 
from one another, than the same nation 
differs from itself, at different periods of 
society. This change of customs and man- 
ners has given rise to two opinions, both 
of them generally received, and both of 
them founded on mistake. These are, 
that we are always improving upon our 
ancestors in art and in science, and always 
degenerating from them in religion and 
morals. When we talk of any work of 
ingenuity or of industry, composed or per- 
formed by our forefathers, from the high- 
est liberal science, to the lowest mechanic 
art, if we allow it any praise at all, our 
panegyric runs in this style : " It is very 
well for the time in which it was done." 
On the other hand, we always allow our 
ancestors the preference in virtue. For 
these five thousand years past, the philoso- 
phers and moralists of every nation have 



extolled the times of antiquity, and de- 
cried the age in which they lived, as the 
worst that ever was known. " These 
wicked times ; " " This degenerate age," 
are phrases that have rung in the public 
ear almost since the general deluge. The 
ages of antiquity are always ages of gold ; 
the present always an age of iron. 

The origin of these opinions I take to 
be this. As customs and manners are 
perpetually fluctuating, the reigning mode 
is always reckoned the best, because 
they have no other standard but fashion. 
But fashion is not the standard of morals. 
The hand of the Almighty hath written 
the moral law, the standard of virtue, 
upon the living tablets of every human 
heart. Here then the standard is fixed 
and eternal. Accordingly, as quite a dif- 
ferent set of virtues and vices prevail in 
one age, from what prevail in another ; as 
we are naturally disposed to bury the 
faults of our forefathers in oblivion ; as 
we insensibly contract a veneration for 
whatever is great in antiquity ; hence 
arises the opinion, that the virtues of a 
former age are greater than those of a 
following one. We think we degenerate 
from our fathers, because we differ from 
them. But were I to pronounce of the 
times in which we live, I would say that 
the present age is not inferior in virtue to 
the past. We have improved upon our 
ancestors in humanity, charity and benevo- 
lence ; we have exchanged the rage and 
rancor of animals of prey, for the meek 
and gentle spirit of the dove. The gall 
of asps is transformed into the milk of 
human kindness. Great and enormous 
crimes are less frequent than they have 
been ; we are better members of society, 
better neighbors, better friends than our 
ancestors were. People of different opin- 
ions and sects in religion, who some hun- 
dred years ago would have been putting 
one another to death, now live together in 
amity and peace. 

Would to God I could carry on my 
panegyric, and add, that we are more re- 
ligious and devout than our ancestors 
were, that our zeal for the honor of God, 
and the interests of religion, shines with 
a brighter lustre, and burns with a purer 
flame. But alas ! my brethren, I must 
here change my strain. Your own eyes, 



ON THE IMPORTANCE OF DEVOTION. 



19 



your own hearts, will tell you the dismal 
truth. Is it not a deplorable fact, that 
instead of being fervent in spirit to serve 
the Lord, an indifference about religion 
almost universally prevails ? The very face 
of seriousness is banished from society, 
and were it not for this day, on which we 
assemble together to worship the God of 
our fathers, the very form of godliness 
would be exterminated from the earth. 

To induce you to the practice of devo- 
tion, it is proposed in the first place, To 
illustrate the importance and the advantage 
of serving the Lord ; and, in the second 
place, To explain and to enforce, with a few 
arguments, the duty of serving the Lord 
with fervency of spirit. 

In the first place, let us consider the 
importance and the advantage of serving 
the Lord. 

We are urged to the practice of some 
virtues, by our strong sense of their in- 
violable obligation ; we are allured to the 
love of others, by the high approbation of 
their native beauty, which arises in every 
well-disposed mind ; we are engaged to 
the performance of others, by our experi- 
ence of their utility and influence upon 
the public good. Piety is equally enforced 
in all these respects. Its obligation is in- 
dispensable ; its beauty is supreme, and 
its utility is universal. It is not so muck 
a single virtue, as a constellation of vir- 
tues. Here reverence, gratitude, faith, 
hope, love, concentre their rays, and shine 
with united glory. Whatsoever things 
are lovely, whatsoever things are pure, 
are honest, or of good report ; if there be 
any merit, any praise in human action, 
piety comprehends the whole. There is 
not a disposition of the min<L which is 
more noble in itself, or is attended with 
greater pleasure than piety. It is accom- 
panied with such inward satisfaction, that 
the duty is sufficiently rewarded by the 
performance ; and it hath such true gran- 
deur in it, that when duly performed, it 
exalts us to a state but little lower than 
the angels. The most illiterate man, 
under the impressions of true devotion, 
and in the immediate acts of divine wor- 
ship, contracts a greatness of mind that 
raises him above his equals. Thereby, says 
an admired ancient, we build a nobler tem- 
ple to the Deity than creation can present. 



Piety is adapted to the notions of hap- 
piness and chief good which all men en- 
tertain, although these notions were as 
various in themselves as the theories of 
philosophers have been about their object. 
If we are actuated by the mild and gentle 
affections, lovers of nature, willing to re- 
tire from the bustle of the world, and to 
steal through the vale of life with as little 
noise, and as much peace as possible, re- 
ligion sanctifies our choice, and doubles 
all the joys of life with the peace of hea- 
ven. Are we lovers of society, delighting 
to enlarge the sphere of our acquaintance 
in the world, and to cultivate universal 
friendship with all ranks and degrees of 
men ? Here too, religion befriends us, as 
it unites all men under one common inter- 
est, that of being probationers for eterni- 
ty. Are we ambitious of fame and honor 
among men ? This is indeed the universal 
passion. Nothing more distinguishes the 
nature of man, than this restless desire of 
rising above his fellows, of becoming fa- 
mous, and acquiring a name. But it does 
not lie in the way of every one to rise in 
the world, by being advanced to honor 
and distinction, and commanding the ap- 
plause of attending multitudes. Fame 
unbars the gates of her temple but to a 
chosen few ; the candidate will infallibly 
meet with many a disappointment, and 
many a downfall, in climbing the steep as- 
cent ; but the paths of religion, that lead 
to glory, honor and immortality, are ever 
open and safe. By piety we already en- 
joy a reputation among the just, and the 
approbation of our own hearts, and have 
the certain expectation of that immortal 
honor which cometh from G-od only, who 
writes our name in the book of life. Hi- 
ther let the man of the world turn, that 
he may find durable riches, more to be 
desired than gold and all earthly posses- 
sions. Here the man of pleasure may 
find a perpetual fund of enjoyment, in 
drinking of that stream which proceeds 
from the river of life ; a stream whose 
fountain never fails, which has no sedi- 
ment at bottom, and which runs for ever 
unmingled with the waters of bitter- 
ness. 

Piety is the foundation of virtue and 
morality. True devotion strengthens our 
obligations to a holy life, and superadds a 



20 



SERMON II. 



Dew motive to every social and civil duty. 
Upon an impartial observation of man- 
kind, it will be found, that those men who 
are the most conscientious in the public 
and private exercises of divine worship, 
will be most diligent in performing the 
duties they owe to their neighbor, and in 
observing the rules of morality. Our 
holy religion lays us under strong obliga- 
tions to duty ; the spirit of Christianity 
dwelling in the heart, must of necessity 
inspire it with an ardent desire to perform 
whatever things are virtuous and praise- 
worthy ; and the example of Jesus Christ, 
which the true Christian sets continually 
before his eyes, will engage him by all the 
laws of love, to walk as he also walked, 
who, according even to the testimony of 
his enemies, "did all things well." On 
the other hand, impiety and immorality 
naturally go together, as cause and effect. 
Who is it that is altogether corrupt, and 
a worker of iniquity ? It is the fool, who 
hath said in his heart there is no God. 
When we read of the unjust judge in the 
Gospel, who feared not God, we naturally 
infer that he regarded not man. Under 
this particular, we may likewise take 
notice, that serving the Lord with sin- 
cere piety, is the most successful method 
of becoming publicly useful in the world. 
Man, fallen as he certainly is, is still a 
benevolent being. Formed for society, 
he delights in the exercise of his social 
qualities ; he aspiresto be eminently use- 
ful in the station in which he is placed, 
and is in his proper element, when he is 
dispensing happiness around him. The 
sympathetic emotions that rise in the 
bosom at the sight of an object in distress, 
the smile that wakens on the cheek, the 
tear that starts spontaneous from the eye, 
at the representation of scenes of human 
joy or sorrow, are indisputable indica- 
tions of the benevolence of our nature. 
But the low station of many checks the 
benevolence of their hearts, and circum- 
scribes it to a narrow sphere. Few have 
it in their power to become useful to their 
country, by contriving or effectuating pub- 
lic-spirited designs ; few have it in their 
power to save their ountry from the miseries 
of war, by being its shield in the day of bat- 
tle ; few can act as the instruments of 
Providence, in bringing about national 



happiness. But all of us can be pious ; 
and by serving the Lord with fervency of 
spirit, can become universally useful to 
our country and to the world. By piety, 
like the Prophets of old, we can shield 
our country from the wrath of heaven ; 
we can interest Omnipotence on its side, 
and even derive blessings to ages unborn. 
A good man is the guardian angel of his 
country. 

I shall only add on this head, that by 
serving the Lord here, we have an earnest 
and anticipation of the happiness of the 
heavenly state. It is a pleasant reflection, 
and well worthy of our most serious 
thought, that we are now entering upon a 
course of life that will be our employment 
through eternity. As man is a progressive 
being, gradually tending to perfection, it 
is a law of his nature, that he should en- 
deavor to act, beforehand, the part to 
which he is destined in a higher state of 
being. The child, from his earliest years, 
anticipates in sport the employment of 
inaturer age, loves to imitate the actions 
of men, and is pleased with the name. 
We are all of us children, with respect to 
our future existence ; and should it not be 
as natural for him who is born from above, 
to act over the exercises and enjoyments 
of that state of being to which he is ad- 
vancing ? Piety is the beginning of heaven 
in the mind : here the sun faintly beams, 
as in the dubious twilight ; there he shines 
forth in full meridian glory. What an 
inestimable privilege then is this, which 
God hath put into our power ? A life 
sacred to piety, and to the observance of 
true and undefiled religion, introduces us 
beforehand into the world to come, and 
gives us an acquaintance with the state 
and society of the angels and blessed 
spirits who dwell in light. 

I come now to the second thing propos- 
ed, which was, To explain that fervor of 
spirit so requisite in the exercises of 
devotion, and enforce it with a few argu- 
ments. 

By fervor of spirit, in general, is meant 
an uncommon application of mind in the 
performance of any thing, a warmth bor- 
dering upon transport, that moves every 
spring of the heart, and carries all before 
it, to gain its end. So that by a fervency 
of spirit in serving the Lord, must be un- 



ON THE IMPORTANCE OF DEVOTION. 



21 



derstood, an ardent and active desire of 
loving the Lord, of worshipping him in 
sincerity, and obeying his commands with 
all our heart, with all our soul, with all 
our mind, and with all our strength. It 
consists not in a few transient fits and starts 
of natural devotion, when we are in jeo- 
pardy, without help of man ; neither is it 
a wild blaze of religious passion, that 
flashes and vanishes. Much less shall it be 
profaued by confounding it with those furies, 
Enthusiasm and Superstition, who would 
drench a country with innocent blood, 
under a pretence of serving the Lord. 
" Cursed be their anger, for it is fierce, 
and their wrath, for it is cruel. 0 my 
soul, enter not thou into their secret." 

True fervor of spirit proceedeth from 
above. It is a beam from the Father of 
lights, pure and benign, which at once en- 
lightens and warms the mind. It is a ray 
from the Sun of Righteousness, bright 
even at the beginning, and which shineth 
more and more unto the perfect day. It 
is a temper wrought into the heart by the 
Holy Spirit, compounded of love to God, 
and of zeal for his honor, attended with 
charity to man. 

This fervor of mind, in its full extent, 
is one of the brightest ornaments of the 
Christian. It enters into the heart, and 
engages the whole man on the side of de- 
votion ; it gives a double measure of force 
and alacrity to that religion which before 
was sincere. In a word, it is to the 
spiritual life, what health is to the natural ; 
it makes that spirited and cheerful, which 
otherwise would only breathe and move. 
Conscious that religion is his grand con- 
cern, the fervent Christian will set about 
the duties of it with suitable ardor and 
intenseness of mind. The passions and 
affections which God hath given man, as 
the springs of action, will in him be exert- 
ed to their noblest purpose, to inspire him 
with alacrity and cheerfulness in the ways 
of the Lord. He will be in pain till he 
has performed his duties of devotion, and 
labors of love, holding nothing too dear, 
which will procure to him that robe of 
holiness, which is beautiful in the eyes of 
heaven. He feels in his heart all the 
devout affections and desires so passion- 
ately described by the holy Psalmist, 
which we know not whether to admire 



most as beautiful strains of poetry, or 
raptures of devotion. " As the hart pant- 
eth after the water-brooks, so panteth 
my soul after thee, 0 God. My soul 
thirsteth for God, yea, the living God : 
when shall I come and appear before God ? 
How amiable are thy tabernacles, 0 Lord 
of hosts ! My soul longeth, yea fainteth, 
for the courts of the Lord. For, a day in 
thy courts is better than a thousand. The 
desire of my soul is to thee, 0 God, and 
to the remembrance of thy name. With 
my soul have I desired thee in the night, 
yea, with my spirit within me will I seek 
thee early. My soul waiteth for thee, 0 
Lord, more than they that watch for the 
morning; yea, more than they that watch 
for the morning." 

To engage us more effectually to the 
performance of this part of our duty, let 
us consider the general obligations we lie 
under, as rational creatures, to serve the 
Lord with fervency of spirit, and then the 
particular obligations that arise from 
Christianity. 

And, in the first place, as the Almighty 
is the Creator of the world, and the Father 
of the human race, he is likewise their 
Preserver, and the' Author of order and 
harmony in the universe. 

In his Providence, he takes us, the chil- 
dren of men, into his particular tuition, in 
giving us, from his immediate hand, all 
things requisite for our subsistence, well- 
being and delight in this world, our well- 
ordered habitation ; in making nature 
spontaneously unlock to us her hidden 
stores ; in causing the wide creation, one 
way or other, to administer to our pleas- 
ures, as if heaven and earth contended 
which should be most liberal of their fa- 
vors to happy man : and in fine, admitting 
us, above all the other inhabitants of our 
earth, into the plan of his creation, and 
making us spectators of that beauty, origi- 
nal and supreme, the image of himself, 
which he hath poured forth over all his 
works. 

But when we consider his particular 
Providence, with respect to every one of 
us, our obligations will be infinitely height- 
ened. Here we discern the finger of God. 
His goodness lent a favorable ear to all 
our feeble cries and complaints, when we 
were upon the breast ; he guarded us from 



22 



SERMON II. 



a thousand dangers and diseases which 
hung over our heads, and cut off more 
than one half of our equals in age. He 
hath led us, as it were, by the hand 
through the various stages of life, afford- 
ing us many deliverances, and many tokens 
of his loving-kindness, which only our- 
selves and Heaven were privy to ; and 
when all things in the world seemed to 
combine against us, he was a friend that 
never failed. Seeing then he upholds our 
existence, and is the parent of so many 
mercies, has he not, as our Supreme Bene- 
factor, a title to the service of our whole 
lives, and to all the fervor of • our spirits ? 

This will appear still more, in the next 
place, when we consider the superior obli- 
gations which we are laid under by Chris- 
tianity. While many nations are sitting 
in darkness, and the shadow of death, on 
us hath the Sun of Righteousness arisen, 
in full glory. We are let into the mystery 
kept hid from ages. We have seen the 
Deity, in human form, descending upon 
earth, to teach the benighted nations the 
knowledge of salvation ; to set a pattern 
of goodness and perfection for the world 
to imitate ; and, by expiating the guilt of 
sin upon the cross, to finish our redemp- 
tion. We have now a new and living way 
opened into the Heaven of Heavens, by 
the blood of Jesus. Life and immortality 
are brought to light, and promised to all 
who sincerely believe and obey the gospel. 
So that we may now rejoice with the Poet 
of Israel, " As the heaven is high above 
the earth, so great is the mercy of the 
Lord towards us ; for as far as the east is 
from the west, so far hath he removed 
from us all our iniquities : he redeemeth 
our lives from destruction, and crowneth 
us with loving-kindness and tender mer- 
.cies." 

When we are obliged to any of our fel- 
low-creatures for an important favor, what 
pleasure is it to a generous heart to be 
able to make the least return ! If our 
benefactor be above us in his station in 
life, if he bestowed the favor without any 
solicitation on our part, and promises still 
to continue our friend, shall we not take 
every occasion of showing that we are not 
ungrateful, and search for opportunity of 
serving him, as for hid treasure ? What 
thanks, what praises, what services, shall 



we not then render to our Supreme Bene- 
factor, who hath translated us from the 
kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of 
his Son ; who delivered up his Son unto 
the death for us, and with him freely gives 
us all things ! 

We have abundance of ardor and zeal 
in our temporal concerns. We rise early, 
and sit up late : we deny ourselves the 
pleasures and comforts of society : we 
forego our native -country, and all the dear 
connections of early life : we traverse the 
whole terraqueous globe, expose ourselves 
to the mercy of winds and waves, and bear 
alternately the extremities of heat and 
cold : we breathe in the regions of infec- 
tion and of death, to amass a few pieces of 
shining dust, whose acquisition costs us 
such sore trouble, and whose possession 
gives us so little happiness. Almighty 
God ! shall we be thus fervent and zealous 
in every temporal, in every trivial concern, 
and remain cold and dead unto thee ! If 
thus we continue, my brethren, the very 
heathens, issuing forth from their regions 
j of darkness, will set up a tribunal, and 
I call us before them. " The men of Nin- 
[ eveh shall rise up in judgment with us, 
and shall condemn us ; because they re- 
pented at the preaching of Jonas, and be- 
hold a greater than Jonas is here ! The 
Queen of the South shall rise up in judg- 
ment with us, and shall condemn us ; for 
she came from the uttermost parts of the 
earth, to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and 
behold a greater than Solomon is here ! " 
— " Verily, it shall be more tolerable for 
the land of Sodom and Gomorrah, in the 
day of judgment, than for our city." 

Do ye consider, my brethren, the dignity 
and importance of that religion, to which 
your attachment is required ? Do ye re- 
flect, that this is the master-piece of infi- 
nite wisdom ; that here the Almighty 
made bare his holy arm, and put forth all 
his strength ? The introduction of this 
religion was the object of all the dispen- 
sations of the Deity upon earth. This is 
the centre in which terminates every line 
in the great circle of Providence. If one 
nation was victorious, and another put un- 
der the yoke ; if war was commissioned to 
ravage and lay desolate the earth, or peace 
to make the joyful inhabitants sing be- 
neath the vine ; if kings were crowned, or 



ON" EARLY PIETY. 



23 



were dethroned ; if empires rose or fell, 
all was preparatory and subservient to 
this grand event. The monarchies which 
prevailed in the world, whether Assyrian, 
Persian, Grecian, or Roman, were erected 
as introductory to the Messiah, whose 
kingdom was to be without bounds, and 
whose reign was to be without end. That 
great image which the monarch of the 
east beheld in his dream, whose head was 
of gold, whose breast was of silver, whose 
thighs were of brass, and whose feet were 
of iron, was set up by Providence, to pre- 
pare the way for the Stone which was cut 
out without hands, which was destined to 
smite the image, become a great moun- 
tain, and fill the whole earth. All events, 
whether prosperous or adverse, whether 
malignant or benign, have co-operated to- 
wards the advancement of our religion. 
Saints have established it, by their lives : 
martyrs have confirmed it, by their deaths: 
hypocrites have added strength to it, by 
their dissimulation : tyrants have purified 
it, by their persecutions : infidels have cor- 
roborated it, by their opposition : the ar- 
rows of its enemies have served for its 
protection : the resistance which it has 
met with, from the combined wit and ge- 
nius and malice of mankind, have brought 
forth those illustrious and immortal de- 
fences, which establish its truth upon the 
basis of demonstration. 

Shall we not, then, reckon ourselves 
eternally indebted to the infinite good- 
ness of God, and stir up all that is 
within us to bless his holy name ? say- 
ing, in the language of true fervor of 
spirit, l - We will praise thee, 0 God ! we 
will praise thee with our whole heart ! 
Our lives shall be thy sacrifice ! We will 
adore thee in death, and through eternity." 

God, from his throne in heaven, doth 
not behold an object more noble, and more 
worthy of his view, than a pious man ; a 
man who, conscious of the dignity and im- 
mortality of his nature, employs himself 
with fervor and zeal, in those devout exer- 
cises which assimilate him to the Divinity : 
who, measuring time by his improvements 
in devotion and virtue, never loses a day. 
He is the favorite of Heaven. The arm of 
the Almighty is stretched out on his be- 
half. The Lord loves him, and keeps him, 
as the apple of his eye ; he gives his an- 



gels charge concerning him, to preserve 
him in all his ways, lest at any time he 
should dash his foot against a stone. He 
delights to speak his praise in the assem- 
blies of his saints and angels above : he 
writes his name in the book of his remem- 
brance, and gives him the honorable title 
of the friend of God. He makes all things 
work together for his good in this world, 
and, in the dark vale of death, opens his 
eyes to discern the dawning of heavenly 
day. In fine, he holds his very ashes sa- 
cred ; and, raising him up at the last day, 
carries him to his throne in heaven above, 
with the glorious company of the redeem- 
ed, to be made partaker of his own hap- 
piness. 

These are thy palms, 0 Piety ! Thine 
is the kingdom prepared above, thine the 
power with God and with man, and thine 
the crown of glor}^ that fadeth not away. 



SERMON III. 

ON EARLY PIETY. 

Eccles. xii. 1. — " Remember now thy Creator 
in the days of thy youth." 

When Solomon, in early youth, had as- 
cended the throne of Israel, the God of 
his fathers appeared to him in a dream. 
The Almighty was graciously pleased to 
condescend thus to visit his creature. He 
put in his offer all the pleasures of the 
world, and desired him to ask, and he 
should receive ; to wish, and he should 
enjoy. The young king possessed a wis- 
dom beyond his years, and a greatness 
above his crown. He did not ask to 
have his palace filled with the beauties of 
the east, to have his treasury stored with 
the gold of Ophir, or to wear the laurel 
of victory over the nations. He asked a 
greater boon than all these. " Give thy 
servant, 0 Lord," replied the wise prince, 
" Give thy servant wisdom and under- 
standing." W^hat he then made the object 
of his own choice, he recommends to you 
under another name, in the words of the 
text. " Remember now thy Creator in the 
days of thy youth." 

This is the last chapter of the works 



24 



SERMON" III 



of Solomon, and these words may be re- 
garded as bis dying advice to the young. 
The philosophers of antiquity, who held 
out the lamp of wisdom to the heathen 
world, gave the same advice to their fol- 
lowers. But between them and Solomon, 
there is this remarkable difference. They, 
from the obscure retirement of the schools, 
declaimed against pleasures which they 
had never tasted, and affected to despise 
honors to which they never had it in their 
power to ascend. But Solomon, a great 
and powerful prince, in the pleasurable 
time of life, had in his own person tried 
the experiment. He made the tour of 
the sensual world. He went in quest 
of happiness through all the scenes of 
life. He extended his search over the 
broad and flowery way, as well as in the 
narrow path, as it should seem by a par- 
ticular permission of Providence, to save 
the pains of future inquirers. Solomon 
acted the libertine upon a principle of in- 
quiry. The result of his researches was, 
that all unlawful pursuits began with van- 
ity, and ended in vexation of spirit, and 
that the true happiness of man, consisted 
in that understanding which teacheth us 
to depart from evil, and in that wisdom 
which instructeth us to fear the Lord. 

It is common in Scripture, to express 
all the acts of devotion and virtue by 
some part or principle of religion, some- 
times by wisdom and understanding; at 
other times by faith, love, the fear of God, 
walking with God, and many other phrases ; 
all of which express the same meaning, and 
denote the whole economy of a religious 
life. So that remembering our Creator in 
the days of our youth, implies an early 
and an entire dedication of ourselves to 
the service of God. 

In further discoursing upon these words, 
I shall enforce the exhortation in the text, 
and endeavor to persuade you to remem- 
ber your Creator in the days of your youth, 
from the peculiar suitableness of religion 
to the early period of life. And in the 
first place, let me exhort you now in the 
days of youth, to remember your Creator, 
from your being as yet uncorrupted by the 
world. 

Although both Scripture and experience 
testify that man is fallen, and that our na- 
ture is corrupted, yet it is equally certain 



that our earliest passions are on the side 
of virtue, and that the good seed springs 
before the tares. Malice and envy are yet 
strangers to your bosom. Covetousness, 
that root of evil, hath not yet sprung up 
in your heart; the selfish, the wrathful, 
and the licentious passions, have not yet 
obtained dominion over you. The modesty 
of nature, the great guardian of virtue, is 
not seduced from its post. You would 
blush, even in secret, to do a deed of dis- 
honesty and shame. High sentiments of 
honor and of probity expand the soul. 
The color comes in our cheek at. the 
smallest apprehension of blame ; the ready 
lightning kindles in the eye at the least 
appearance of treachery and falsehood. 
Hence, says our Lord to his followers, 
Unless you become as a child ; unless you 
assume the candor, the innocence and pu- 
rity of children, you cannot enter into the 
kingdom of God. Therefore, whilst you 
are yet an offering fit for Heaven, present 
yourselves at his altar, devote yourselves to 
his service. How beautiful and becoming 
does it appear for young persons, newly 
arrived in this city of God, to remember 
the end for which they were sent into it, 
and to devote to their Maker's service the 
first and the best of their days ? When 
they are in the prime of you^h and of 
health, when the mind is untainted with 
actual guilt, and alive to every generous 
impression, to consecrate to religion the 
vernal flower of life ? The virgin inno- 
cence of the mind is a sacrifice more ac- 
ceptable to the Almighty, than if we should 
come before him with the cattle upon a 
thousand hills, and with ten thousand ri- 
vers of oil. If there be joy in heaven 
over a great and aged sinner that repent- 
eth, how pleasing a spectacle will it be to 
God, to angels, and to the spirits of just 
men made perfect, to behold a person, in 
the critical season of life, acquit himself 
gloriously, and, despising the allurements, 
the deceitful and transitory pleasures of 
sin, choose for himself that better part 
which shall never be taken away ! 

Dare then, 0 young man, to remember 
thy Creator in the days of thy youth ; 
have the courage to be good betimes. Be- 
ware of falling into the usual snare of the 
inexperienced ; beware of thinking that 
I you have time enough to be religious, and 



ON EARLY PIETY. 



25 



for that reason may defer the work of 
your salvation to maturer age, when, as 
you foolishly imagine, seriousness and 
sanctity will come of their own accord. In 
answer to this, let me ask you, my friends, 
How often have you observed time reform 
any one ? Did time reform Saul ? Did 
time reform Ahab ? Did time reforin Je- 
zebel ?. On the contrary, did they not 
grow bolder in wickedness ? You gener- 
ally, indeed, observe a greater decency in 
maturer age. The ebullition of youth is 
then spent, its turbulence is over ; but, too 
often, I am afraid, the wild passions have 
only given place to an external sobriety, 
whilst the heart is as far from God, and as 
carnal as ever. If you suspect this to be 
a hasty decision, examine what passes in 
the world. Do you not observe great 
part of men in the decline of life, as earth- 
ly-minded as before ? The passion for 
pleasure has indeed abated, but the love 
of lucre, the most sordid of all passions, 
hath come into its place. If such persons 
have any regret for their past life, it is 
only because it is past. Even then they 
look with envy upon the gay and the 
nourishing state of the young. "With 
what joy and triumph do they talk over 
the excesses of their early days, and seem 
to renew their age in the contemplation 
of their youthful follies ? Alas, my friends, 
Is not God the Lord of all your time ? Is 
there one of your days which doth not 
pertain to him? Why would you then 
take the flower of life, and make it an of- 
fering to the enemy of souls ? Is your 
time too long, to be all employed in the 
service of God ? Is the prime of your 
days too precious, to be devoted to Hea- 
ven ? And will you only reserve to your 
Maker the refuse of life ; the /leavings of 
the world and the flesh ? If you would speak 
it out, the language of your heart is this ; 
that whilst you are good for any thing, 
you will mind the world and its pleasures; 
that you will crown yourselves with rose- 
buds, before they are withered, and let no 
flower of the spring pass away ; but if at 
any time the world shall forsake you, if 
your passion for pleasure shall have left 
you, you will then seek the comforts of 
religion. Any part of your time, you 
think, is good enough for God ; you will 
a Pply yourselves to the work of your sal- 



vation, when you are fit for nothing else ; 
and when you cannot make a better of it, 
you will seek the kingdom of heaven. 

Is it thus that ye requite the Lord, 0 
people, foolish and unjust ? Is this your 
gratitude to your Benefactor ? Is this 
your love to your Father ? Is this your 
kindness to your Friend ? Whilst he now 
calls upon you in the sweetest language of 
heaven, " My son, give me thy heart," 
ought it not to be the natural movement 
of your heart, to answer with the good 
man of old, " With my soul have I desired 
thee in the night ; with my spirit within 
me, will I seek thee early;" — "Whom 
have I in heaven but thee ? and there is 
none in all the earth whom I desire be- 
side thee." 

In the second place, Let me exhort you 
to early piety, from the consideration of 
those evils which await you in your 
future days. 

Now is your golden age. When the 
morning of life rejoices over your head, 
every thing around you puts on a smiling 
appearance. All nature wears a face of 
beauty, and is animated with a spirit of 
joy. You walk up and down in* a new 
world ; you crop the unblown flower, and 
drink the untasted spring. Full of spirit, 
and high in hope, you set ou| on the jour- 
ney of life : visions of bliss present them- 
selves to view : dreams of joy, with sweet 
delusion, amuse the vacant mind. You' 
listen and accord to the song of hope, 
" To-morrow shall be as this day, and 
much more abundant." But ah! my 
friends, the flattering scene will not last. 
The spell is quickly broken, and the en- 
chantment soon over. How hideous will 
life appear, when experience takes off the 
mask, and discovers the sad reality ! Now 
thou hast no weariness to clog thy waking 
hours, and no care to disturb thy repose. 
But know, child of the earth, that thou 
art born to trouble, and that care, through 
every subsequent path of life, will haunt 
thee like a ghost. Health now sparkles 
in thine eye, the blood flows pure in thy 
veins, and thy spirits are gay as the morn- 
ing : but alas ! the time will come when 
diseases, a numerous and a direful train, will 
assail thy life ; the time will come, when 
pale and ghastly, and stretched on a bed, 
" chastened with pain, and the multitude 



26 



SERMON IV. 



of thy bones with strong pain, thou wilt 
be ready to choose strangling and death 
rather than life." 

You are now happy in your earthly 
companions. Friendship, which in the 
world is a feeble sentiment, with you is a 
strong passion. But shift the scene for a 
few years, and behold the man of thy 
right-hand become unto thee as an alien. 
Behold the friend of thy youth, who was 
one with thine own soul, striving to sup- 
plant thee, and laying snares for thy ruin ! 
I mention not these things, my friends, to 
make you miserable before the time. God 
forbid that I should anticipate the evil 
day, unless I could arm you against it. 
Now remember your Creator, consecrate 
to him the early period of your days, and 
the light of his countenance will shine up- 
on you through life. Amid all the changes 
of this fluctuating scene, you have a Friend 
that never fails. Then let the tempest 
beat, and the floods descend, you are safe 
and happy under the shelter of the Bock 
of ages. 

Thirdly, The season of youth devoted 
to piety, will yield you a comfortable old 
age. j 

When the fire and spirit of youth are 
decayed ; when sober age retires from the 
noise and bustle of a busy world, and 
loves to spend in peace the tranquil Sab- 
bath of life, what joy will it afford to be 
'able to look back with pleasure on the ac- 
tions of other years ! Worn out and weary 
of his pilgrimage, the traveller now enter- 
tains himself by recalling the times that 
are past, and recollecting the scenes of his 
early days. In particular, he now loves 
to recall the period of childhood and of 
youth, when he wandered up and down, a 
stranger to care and sorrow, and passed 
his days in innocence. Often does the 
fond idea recur ; often the pleasant period 
return. It will add much, my friends, it 
will add much ft) the pleasures of the re- 
flection, if you have it in your power to 
recall to mind that your early days were 
not only innocent, but useful, and devoted 
to the service of your Creator. To look 
back on a life, no season of which was 
spent in vain ; to number up the days, the 
months, and the years, spent in the ser- 
vice of God, will be inward rapture, only 
to be felt. This will cause the evening of 



life to smile, and make your departure like 
a setting sun. 

I shall conclude with one consideration, 
which I hope will have weight, and that is, 
if you seek God now in the days of youth, 
you are certain of success. Go out in the 
morning of youth, and you are sure to 
gather the manna of everlasting life. God 
himself will bend from his throne, and 
teach your spirits to approach unto him. 
They who seek him early shall find him,' 
and shall be guarded from evil on his holy 
mountain. 



SEKMON IY. 

ON THE IMPROVEMENT OF TIME. 

Coloss. iv. 5. — "Redeeming the time." 

Among those who have their time most at 
their own disposal, there prevails a max- 
im very different from that which is re- 
commended in the text. The maxim of 
the world is, to spend time in idleness 
and folly, or, to speak in their own lan- 
guage, " to kill time " by dissipation and 
amusement. Life, which appears so short 
upon the whole, is nevertheless so long in 
particular parts, that vast numbers of men 
are overstocked with its days and hours ; 
their time hangs heavy on their hands; 
they know not how to employ it, or what 
to make of themselves. As they have no 
fund of entertainment within, and for that 
reason, no happiness at home, they natur- 
ally look out for it abroad. Hence every 
pastime is greedily sought after, that can 
banish thought, and save them from their 
own company. Hence places of public 
entertainment are frequented, parties of 
pleasure are formed, plans of dissipation are 
concerted, and amusement, frivolous amuse- 
ment, becomes the serious occupation of 
life. Only look around you into the 
world ! Observe what policy and contriv- 
ance are continually put in practice by, 
men, for pre-engaging every day in the 
week for one idleness or another ; for do- 
ing nothing, or worse than nothing, and 
that with so much ingenuity and forecast, 
as scarce to leave an hour upon their 
hands to reproach them. 



ON THE IMPROVEMENT OF TIME. 



27 



Such, my brethren, is the life of what is 
called the world, a repetition of the same 
childish conceptions, a perpetual round of 
the same trifling amusements. If you had 
been sent on earth to play the fool ; if 
your pilgrimage through life were merely 
a jaunt of pleasure ; it would be cruel and 
injurious to awaken you from the delu- 
sion. But as you profess to be Christians, 
and believe this life to be a state of moral 
discipline and probation for the next, it 
will be proper and seasonable to warn you 
of the folly of such a course, and to point 
out a nobler and a happier path, where at 
once you may see the world, and may 
adorn it ; where at once you may improve 
your time, and enjoy life. 

In order to this, I shall, in the first 
place, give you some directions for re- 
deeming or improving the time ; and, in 
the second place, set before you the obliga- 
tions to the practice of this duty. 

We begin with directions for redeeming 
the time. In the first place, treasure up 
in your memory a store of useful know- 
ledge, as a proper foundation of employ- 
ment to the mind. 

It has been the complaint of discon- 
tented men in all ages, that life is a scene 
of dulness, not worth a wise man's care, 
where the same things come over and over 
like a tale that is told, which, however en- 
tertaining it may appear when it is new, 
yet, by frequent repetition, at last becomes 
tedious and insipid. The consequence of 
which has been, that many, viewing the 
picture in this disagreeable light, have 
been inclined to throw off all serious con- 
cern about their duty, to give themselves 
up to habits of indolence and languor, and 
to make no other use of their time, but to 
study how to trifle it away. True it is, 
indeed, that the days of many have thus 
been spent in vain ; that their life has 
been a barren circle, within which they 
have been enchanted, going round and 
round, ever in motion, but never making 
any advances. But although many have 
made life a dull round of insignificant ac- 
tions, yet no man had ever occasion to 
make it so. It is indeed so to the brutes, 
who soon arrive at that pitch of perfec- 
tion which is allotted to their natures, 
where they must stop short without a pos- 
sibility of going farther. Sense, which is | 



their highest power, moves in a narrow 
sphere; its objects are few in number, 
and gross in kind, and therefore not only 
come more quickly round, but also grow 
more insipid at every revolution. 

But man is endowed with nobler facul- 
ties, and is presented with nobler objects 
whereon to exercise and employ them. 
The contemplation of all divine truth to 
engage his understanding ; the beauties of 
the natural and moral world to attract 
and captivate his affections ; the power, 
the wisdom, and the goodness of God, 
manifested in the works of Creation, of 
Providence, and of Redemption, to exalt 
his admiration, and call forth all his praise. 
What employment can be more worthy of 
a rational being, or better adapted to the 
faculties of an immortal spirit, than thus 
to search out the order, the beauty, and 
the benevolence of nature, to trace the 
Everlasting in his works, and to mark the 
impression of his creating hand, yet recent 
on a beautiful world ? Or if we turn our 
eyes towards the moral system, to observe 
a higher order of things, and a greater 
exertion of Divinity, in adjusting the plan 
of Providence, in bringing light from dark- 
ness, and good from evil, in causing the 
most unconnected and contrary events to 
co-operate to one great end, and making 
all to issue in the general good. Here is 
a noble path for a rational creature to 
travel in. Whilst day unto day thus 
teaches wisdom, night unto night will in- 
crease pleasure. The man who is thus 
trained up to the admiration of the works 
of God, and who has tasted the spirit of 
these sublime enjoyments, will not com- 
plain of the insignificance and languor of 
life. These studies will afford an occu- 
pation at all hours. They will make your 
own thoughts an entertainment to you, 
and open a fountain of happiness at home. 
They will diffuse somewhat of heaven 
over the mind ; they will introduce you 
beforehand into the society of angels and 
blessed spirits above, and already prepare 
you to bear a part in that beautiful hymn 
of heaven, " Great and marvellous are thy 
works, Lord God Almighty ; just and true 
are all thy ways, thou King of Saints." 

Secondly, Have some end in view; 
some object to employ the mind, and call 
forth its latent powers. 



28 



SERMON IV. 



In devising, or in executing a plan ; in 
engaging in the whirl of active life, the 
soul seems to unfold its being, and to en- 
joy itself. Man is not like the soil on 
which he lives, which spends its powers in 
exercise, and requires repose, in order to 
recruit its wasted strength, and prepare it 
for new exertions. Activity is an essen- 
tial attribute of mind. Its faculties exist 
only when they are exercised ; it gains a 
new accession of strength from every new 
exertion, and the greater acquisitions it 
makes, it is enabled to make still greater. 
It is not a brook formed by the shower ; 
it is a living fountain, which is for ever 
flowing, and yet for ever full. This will 
account for an observation that we have 
often occasion to make in life, that none 
have so little leisure as those who are en- 
tirely idle ; that none complain so much 
of the want of time as those who have 
nothing to do. The fact is, they want 
that energy of soul which is requisite to 
every exertion, and that habit of activity 
which applies to every thing. Indolence 
unmans the faculties ; impairs and debili- 
tates the whole intellectual system. Those 
who, under its influence, become a kind of 
perpetual sleepers, degrade themselves 
from the honors of their nature, and are 
dead while they live. A habit of activity 
is a most valuable acquisition. He who 
is possessed of it, is fit for all events, and 
may be happy in every situation. This 
habit is only to be acquired by pursuing 
some great object that may agitate the 
mind. Think not that your labor may be 
spent in vain. Nothing is in vain that 
rouses the soul : nothing in vain that 
keeps the ethereal fire alive and glowing. 
The prospect of something coming for- 
ward ; the pleasure and the pride which 
the mind takes in its own action, beget in- 
sensibly that habit of industry which will 
abide through life. 

Thirdly, Set apart fixed and stated 
hours for the important duties of life. 

It is the misfortune of great part of 
men, that they have no fixed plan of acting. 
They live extempore. They act at ran- 
dom. They are always led by instanta- 
neous impulse, and are driven to and fro 
as inclination varies. Their life rolls on 
through a course of misspent time, and un- 
connected years, and appears upon review, 



like the path of a cloud in the air, which 
leaves no trace behind it. It was the 
custom of the great Alfred, one of the 
English kings, to divide the day into 
three parts, which he measured by the 
burning of tapers. One part he employed 
in the cares of the government ; another 
part he dedicated to the cultivation of 
the liberal arts; the third he devoted to 
religion. It would be happy for you, my 
brethren, if, in this respect, you would 
imitate such an illustrious example. Let, 
at least, one part of your time be devoted 
to the service of God. When the morning 
ascends from the east, let it be your first 
care to offer up your earliest thoughts as 
incense to Heaven ; to add your praises 
to. the hymns and hosannas of the angels 
in light, and spirits of just men made per- 
fect. When the shades of the night fall 
around you, let it be your constant care 
to implore the pardoning mercy of God 
for the errors of the past day, and to com- 
mit yourselves to the protection of His 
Providence who slumbers not nor sleeps. 
In particular, let this day, which is sacred 
to the memory of a Saviour's resurrection 
from the dead ; which is a memorial of 
the full accomplishment of our redemp- 
tion ; let this day be set apart for holy 
contemplation on the wonders of redeem- 
ing love, on the height and depth and 
breadth and length of the love of Jesus to 
our race, which passeth all understanding; 
which prompted him to forego the glories 
of his divine nature for a time, to take 
upon him the robe of humanity, to lead a 
life of sorrows upon earth, and to suffer a 
cruel and ignominious, and an accurse i 
death. Let us contemplate this amiable 
and divine love, till we are changed into 
the same image, and feel within ourselves 
an earnest and anticipation of that ever- 
lasting Sabbath of joy which is reserved 
for the righteous in the world to come, 
when time shall be no more. 

In the fourth place, Endeavor to dis- | 
tinguish your days by some good deed. 

As those who are intent to amass a for 
tune, attend to small sums, in like manner, 
if you would wish to improve your time, 
you must take care not to lose a day. 
Many are the ways, and frequent the oc- 
casions, which daily present themselves, 
of adding to your true happiness, of im 



ON THE IMPROVEMENT OF TIME. 



29 



proving your natures, and promoting the 
interests of society. You have all the 
world before you where to act, and the 
whole of human life as a theatre of virtue. 
Through the assistance of divine grace, 
conquer the excess of passion, correct 
some irregular desire, and obtain a vic- 
tory over the vices that war against the 
soul. Let your goodness extend to society, 
and spread over the land, like the light 
of the morning. Can there be any em- 
ployment so agreeable to a benevolent 
mind, and so congenial to the spirit of 
Christianity as to assuage the boisterous 
passions, and reconcile the jarring interests 
of men ; to open the eye which prejudice 
has shut; to charm down the spirit of 
party, and to unite all your neighbors in 
one great family of love ? Is not the 
employment god-like ; is not the joy di- 
vine, to brighten up the face that was 
overcast with sadness ; to wipe the tears 
from the cheek of sorrow; to turn the 
voice of mourning into the notes of joy; 
to make misery and woe vanish before us 
like darkness before the sun ; to refresh 
with showers of blessings the dry and bar- 
ren land wherein no water is, and, co- 
operating with a beneficent Providence, to 
watch for the happiness of the world ? 
Where is there any one so destitute of 
the gifts of grace, of nature, and of for- 
tune, as to have no mite to throw into the 
public treasury ? He who cannot pretend 
to enlighten or reform the world, may 
instruct his ignorant, or comfort his 
afflicted neighbor : he who cannot com- 
municate instruction, may give alms. If 
even these are not in your power, the gate 
of heaven is ever open; the throne of 
grace is ever accessible ; and by your in- 
tercession with God, society ' may reap 
more benefit, than from the bounty of the 
opulent, or the labors of the learned. It 
was thus that Job improved his time, as 
we learn from his affecting complaint, 
when he reviewed the days of his pros- 
perity : "0 that I were as in months past, 
as in the days when God preserved me ; 
as in the days of my youth, when the can- 
dle of the Lord shined upon my head, 
when the Almighty was yet with me, when 
my children were about me; when the 
ear heard me, then it blessed me, when the 
eye saw me, it gave witness to me, because 



I delivered the poor that cried, the father- 
less, and him that had none to help him. 
I was eyes to the blind, feet was I to the 
lame : I was a father to the poor, and the 
cause which I knew not, I -searched out. 
The stranger did not lodge in the street ; 
I opened my doors to the traveller. The 
loins of the naked blessed me, and were 
warmed with the fleeces of my flock. The 
blessing of him that was ready to perish 
came upon me, and I caused the widow's 
heart to sing for joy." 

In the last place, Accustom yourselves 
to frequent self-examination. 

Call yourselves to an account at the 
close of the day. Inquire what you have 
been doing ; whether you have lost a day 
or redeemed the time. Have you learned 
any useful truth ? treasure it up in your 
heart, as a valuable acquisition; make it a 
principle of action, and bring it into life. 
Have you done a good deed ? then enjoy 
the self-approving hour, and give thanks 
unto God for the pleasures of virtue, and 
the testimony of a good conscience. Have 
you been led astray by temptation ; and 
overtaken in a fault? repent sincerely of 
your past transgression ; implore the mer- 
cy of God, through the merits of Jesus 
Christ, and resolve, through divine grace, 
to be more guarded in the time to come. 
Did we, my brethren, thus make a study 
of a holy life ; were we as much in earnest 
about improving the soul in piety and vir- 
tue, as we are about many trifling concerns, 
to what high degrees of sanctity might we 
ascend ! How pleasant would it be at the 
close of any period of time, to look back 
on a life no season of which was spent in 
vain ; to number up the days, the months, 
the years, that are marked with good 
deeds ; to behold our youth, our manhood, 
and our age, as so many stages in our jour- 
ney to the land of Emmanuel? This 
would inspire us with that peace of God 
which passeth all understanding. This 
would cheer the traveller in the decline 
of his days. His evening w T ould be bright 
and pleasant, and his sun go down in glory. 
Life thus spent would make us triumph in 
death. Time thus improved would make 
us rejoice through all eternity. 

I have thus given you some directions 
for the proper improvement of time. The 
second thing proposed, was to set before 



30 



SERMON IV. 



you the obligations to the practice of this 
duty, which I shall do by considering, in 
the first place, your nature as men, and. in 
the second place, your expectations as 
Christians. 

In the first place, Let us consider our 
nature as men. 

It is a study full of instruction to the 
curious or the pious mind, to contemplate 
the appearances in the universe, and trace 
the laws by which it is governed. All 
nature is busy and active. Something is 
ever coming forward in the creation ; in 
the moral world, as well as in the natural, 
there is a design going on. The great 
purpose of nature in our system is to dif- 
fuse existence ; to multiply all the forms 
of matter and classes of being. Every ele- 
ment is stored with inhabitants. Even 
the loneliest desert is populous, and putre- 
faction is pregnant with life. Worlds are 
inclosed in worlds, and systems of being 
going on, that escape the eye of sense. 

Such is the plan of Providence in this 
inferior world. The order established at 
the first of time is still advancing. The 
divine Spirit, who at the beginning moved 
upon the face of the deep, and turned a 
chaos into a beautiful world, still contin- 
ues to move, inform, and actuate the great 
machine. Nothing in nature is at rest : 
all is alive, all is in motion in the great 
system of God. Thou too, 0 man! art 
appointed to action. The love of occupa- 
tion is strongly implanted in thy nature. 
One way or another, thou must be always 
employed. Woe to the man, who by his 
own folly is doomed to bear the pains and 
penalties of idleness. Rest is the void 
which mind abhors. An idle man is the 
most miserable of all the creatures of Grod. 
He falls upon a thousand schemes to fill 
up his hours, and rather than want employ- 
ment, is contented to lie upon the torture 
of the mind, while the cards are shuffling, 
or the die is depending. The glory of 
our nature is founded upon exertions of 
activity. From the want of them, those 
in the more affluent stations of life, whose 
fortune is made at their birth, so often 
fail in attaining to the higher improve- 
ments and honors of their nature. Have 
you not, on the other hand, seen men, 
when business roused them from their 
usual indolence, when great occasion 



called them forth, discover a spirit to 
which they were strangers before, and dis- 
play to the world abilities and virtues 
which seemed to be born with the occasion? 

While there are so many splendid ob- 
jects to allure the mind, why trust your 
character to be evolved by accident ; why 
leave your glory in the power of fortune? 

This activity is not only the source of 
our excellence, but also gives rise to our 
greatest enjoyments. Even the lower class 
of enjoyments, animal pleasure?, are not 
only consistent with a life of activity, but 
also derive from it additional sweets. 
Hours of leisure, suppose hours of employ- 
ment ; they alone will relish the feast, who 
have" felt the fatigues of the chase. But 
mere animal pleasures are not of them- 
selves objects for a wise or a good man. 
Unless they are under the direction of 
taste ; unless they have the accompani- 
ments of elegance and grace : unless they 
promote friendship and social joy ; unless 
they come at proper intervals, and have 
the additional heightening of being a re- 
lief from business, they soon pall upon the 
appetite, and disgust by repetition. Has 
sensuality a charm when thy friend is in 
danger, or thy country calls to arms? 
Who listens to the voice of the viol, when 
the trumpet sounds the alarm of battle ? 
When the mind is struck with the grand 
and the sublime of human life, it disdains 
inferior things, and, kindling with the occa- 
sion, rejoices to put forth all its strength. 
Obstacles in the way only give additional 
ardor to the pursuit ; and the prize appears 
then the most tempting to the view, when 
the ascent is arduous, and when the path 
is marked with blood. Hence that life is 
chosen, where incentives to action abound ; 
hence serious engagements are the prefer- 
able objects of pursuit; hence the most 
animating occasions of life are calls to 
danger and hardship, not invitations to 
safety and ease ; and hence man himself, 
in his highest excellence, is found to pine 
in the lap of repose, and to exult in the 
midst of alarms that seem to threaten his 
being. All the faculties of his frame en- 
gage him to action ; the higher powers of 
the soul, as well as the softer feelings of 
the heart : wisdom and magnanimity, as 
well as pity and tenderness, carry a mani- 
fest reference to the arduous career he has 



OX THE IMPROVEMENT OF TIME. 



31 



to run, the difficulties with which he is 
destined to struggle, and the sorrows he is 
appointed to bear. Happiness to him is 
an exertion of soul. They know not what 
they say, who cry out, " Let us build ta- 
bernacles of rest." They mistake very 
much the nature of man, and go in quest 
of felicity to no purpose, who seek for it 
in what are called the enjoyments of life; 
who seek for it in a termination of labor 
and a period of repose. It is not in the 
calm scene : it is in the tempest; it is in 
the whirlwind ; it is in the thunder that 
this Grenius resides. When once you have 
discovered the bias of the mind ; when 
once you have recognised your path in 
life ; when once you have found out the 
object of the soul, you will bend to it 
alone ; like an eagle when he has tasted 
the blood of his prey, who disdains the 
objects of his former pursuit, and follows 
on in his path through the heavens. 

Thus have I set before you your obliga- 
tions as men, to make a right use of life, 
and have shown you, from the principles 
of nature alone, without having recourse 
to Christianity, that the excellency and 
the happiness of man consists in a virtuous 
course of action, and in making a proper 
improvement of time. Let us now, in the 
second place, take in the considerations 
suggested by the Christian religion, and 
see what new obligations arise from it, to 
urge us to redeem the time. 

It is the doctrine of revelation, then, 
that the present life is a state of probation 
for the life to come ; that we are now 
training up for an everlasting existence ; 
and that according to our works here, we 
shall be judged in a future world. Ac- 
cording, therefore, as you now sow, here- 
after you shall reap. The time is now 
passing that decides your fate for ever. 
The hours are at this instant on the wing, 
upon which eternity depends. In this 
view, let me exhort you to look back upon 
your past life. Call your former hours 
to an account. Ask them what report they 
have carried to heaven. Is there any 
thing in your life, to distinguish it from 
mere existence ? Do you discern any 
thing but shadows in that mirror which 
remembrance holds up ? Is the book of 
memory one vast blank, or blotted all 
over 1 If this be the case, and I am afraid 



it is the case with a great part of men, 
what better are ye than the animals of the 
field or the forest ? Like you they sleep 
and they wake ; like you they eat and 
they drink; like you they perform the 
various functions of nature. Alas ! my 
brethren, did Almighty God create you 
after his own image, that you might sink 
that image to the resemblance of a beast ? 
For, what have you done since you came 
into being, to distinguish yourselves from 
the brutes that perish ? Have you glori- 
fied God in all your actions ? Have you 
made your calling and election sure, by a 
lively faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, by 
repentance from dead works, and by uni- 
versal purity of heart and life ? Have 
you enriched your mind with the treasures 
of wisdom ? Have you adorned your life 
with the beauties of holiness ! Have you 
laid up many deeds of piety and charity, 
as a good foundation against the time to 
come ? Unless you have done these things, 
you have done nothing. You have been 
blanks in the universe. You are as if you 
had never been. You have been fast 
asleep ; nor has your sleep been the less 
sound, that you have dreamed you were 
awake. 

I now call upon you to arise, or be 
for ever fallen. It is now high time to 
awake. Almighty Grod now calls upon 
you to finish the work which he hath given 
you to do. Grlory and honor and immor- 
tality are set before you. Up then and 
be doing, and the Lord shall be with thee. 
With such views of your duty, and upon 
these principles of action, you will never 
join in the apology which some make for 
themselves, that the general tenor of their 
life is innocence, and that they have at 
least the negative merit to do no harm. 
Perhaps this account may be true ; but 
let me ask such persons, Have you ever 
considered the parable of the master who 
called his servants to account ? He de- 
livered talents to each of them, according 
as he saw fit, with this charge, " Occupy 
till I come." The servant who received the 
one talent, was negligent and slothful. He 
wrapt up his talent in a napkin, and hid it 
in the earth. He thought he did well, if 
he secured the capital till his Lord's re- 
turn. But the master received the talent 
with indignation. He cast the unprofit- 



32 



SERMON IV. 



alble servant into outer darkness, and con- 
demned liini to weeping and wailing and 
gnashing of teeth. The poor wretch was 
neither a thief nor a murderer. He had 
not wasted his Lord's goods. He had 
your plea, he had done no harm. But he 
was found guilty of idleness and sloth ; he 
received his sentence, and was condemned 
to punishment. That which is the ground 
of your security, could not save him from 
condemnation. 

But in good earnest, Do you no harm 1 
Is it no harm to wander from the cradle 
to the grave, in a labyrinth of amusements, 
either vain or childish ? Is it no harm to 
waste in dissipation and expensive plea- 
sure, that wealth which might have saved 
an honest family from beggary and want ? 
Is it no harm to squander in one con- 
tinued round of vanity and folly, those pre- 
cious hours on which your future happi- 
ness depends ? If there be harm in human 
actious, this is harm. It is a criminal 
negligence which will turn the scale of 
your eternal doom. 

To you, my younger friends, this duty 
recommends itself under the most in- 
teresting claims. You are now in that 
period, when time can be improved to the 
best advantage. With you, every hour of 
life is precious. The misimprovement of 
youthful days is more than the loss of 
time. It were of little consequence to 
throw away a few days from your life ; 
but along with these, you cut off the sub- 
stantial improvements, the real joys of 
maturer age. Figure to yourselves the 
loss which the year would sustain, if the 
spring were taken away ; such a loss you 
sustain. No tears, nor lamentations, nor 
bitter upbraidings, will ever recall that 
golden period. The star sets, to rise no 
more ; the flood rolls away, never to return. 

Your own experience, my aged breth- 
ren, will urge the instant necessity of re- 
deeming the time. Consider the fate that 
awaits you soon. A few steps will bring 
you to the threshold of that house which 
is appointed for all living. Man that is 
bom of a woman is of few days. He 
cometh forth as a flower, and is cut down ; 
he flieth as a shadow, and continueth not. 
By the unalterable law of nature, all 
things here hasten to an end. An irresisti- 
ble rapidity hurries every thing to the 



abyss of eternity ; to that awful abyss, to 
which all things go, and from which noth- 
ing returns. The great drama of life is 
perpetually going on. Age succeeds to 
age, and generation to generation. Not 
long ago, our fathers trod the path which 
their fathers had trodden before them ; 
we have come into their room, and now 
supply their places. In a little time we 
must resign to another race, who in their 
turn also shall pass away, and give place 
to a new generation. The race of men, 
saith a Jewish writer, is like the leaves 
of the trees. They come forth in spring, 
and clothe the wood with robes of green. 
In autumn they wither ; they fall ; the 
winter wind scatters them on the earth. 
Another race comes in the season, and 
clothes the forest again. 

Consider the world, my friends, as you 
saw it at first, and as you see it now. You 
have marked vicissitude and alteration in 
all human affairs. You have seen changes 
in almost every department of life. You 
have seen new ministers at the court, new 
judges on the bench, and new priests at 
the altar of the Lord. You have seen dif- 
ferent kings upon the throne. You have 
seen peace and war, and war and peace 
again. How many of your equals in age 
have you survived ? How many younger 
than you, have you carried to the grave ? 
Year after year hath made a blank in the 
number of your friends. Your own 
country hath insensibly become a strange 
land, and a new world hath risen around 
you, before you perceived that the old 
had passed away. The same fate that 
hath taken your friends, awaits you. Even 
now the decree is gone forth. The king 
of terrors hath received his commission, 
and is now on his way. If you have mis- 
employed your time, that talent which 
God hath put into your hand ; if your life 
is marked with guilt or folly, how will you 
answer to your own heart at that awful 
hour ? For previous to the general doom, 
Almighty God hath appointed a day of 
judgment in the breast of every man. The 
last hour is ordained to pass sentence on 
all the rest. The actions of your former 
life will there meet you again. How will 
you then answer at the bar of your own 
heart, when the collected crimes of a 
lengthened life, at one view, shall flash 



ON REVERENCE 

upon the mind ; when the ghosts of your 
departed hours, of those hours which you 
have murdered, shall rise up in terrible 
array, and look you in the face ? "What 
would you then give for that time which 
you now throw away ? What wonld the 
wretch who lies on a bed of agony, extend- 
ed and groaning, who feels in his heart the 
poisoned arrow of death ; who, looking 
back on his past life, turns aside from the 
view; who, looking forward to futurity, 
discerns no beam of hope to break that 
utter darkness which overwhelms him ; 
what would he then give for those hours 
which you now despise, to make his peace 
with Heaven, and fit him for his passage 
into the world unknown ? Remember, 
my friends, that this is no imaginary case ; 
it is a case which may soon be your own. 
Be wise, therefore, while wisdom can avail, 
and save yourselves from the agony of 
repenting in bitterness of soul, when all 
repentance may be in vain. 

To sum up all ; my friends, the time is 
short. We are as guests in a strange land, 
who tarry but one night. We wander up 
and down in a place of graves. We read 
the epitaphs upon the tombs of the de- 
ceased. We shed a few tears over the 
ashes of the dead ; and, in a little time, 
we need from our surviving friends the 
tears we paid to the memory of our friends 
departed. 

Time is precious. The time is now pass- 
ing that fixes our fate for ever. The 
hours are, at this instant on the wing, 
which carry along with them your eternal 
happiness or eternal misery. 

Time is irrecoverable. The clock is 
wound up once for all ; the hand is ad- 
vancing, and, in a little time, it strikes your 
last hour. 



SERMON Y. 

ON REVERENCE AND HOLY FEAR. 
Psalm iv. 4. — " Stand in awe." 

When the Patriarch Jacob departed from 
his father's house, and entered on that 
state of pilgrimage, which only terminated 
with his life, he lighted on a certain place, 

3 



AND HOLY FEAR. 33 

where he tarried all the night. Agreea- 
bly to the simplicity of the ancient world, 
he laid himself down to rest on the open 
plain ; without any pillow but a stone of the 
field ; and without any covering but the 
curtains of heaven. A stranger he was 
to the elegance and luxury of after times, 
but he enjoyed pleasures of a higher kind. 
The God of his fathers was with him. In 
the patriarchal ages, before a public rev- 
elation was given to the world, the Deity 
frequently appeared to holy men in dreams, 
and visions of the night. Accordingly, 
Jacob, in his dream, beheld a ladder set 
upon the earth, the top of it reaching unto 
the heavens, and upon it the angels of God 
ascending and descending ; and behold ! 
the Lord stood above, and said, " I am 
the Lord God of Abraham, thy father, 
and the God of Isaac ; the land whereon 
thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to 
thy seed ; and thy seed shall be as the 
dust of the earth ; thou shalt spread abroad 
to the east and to the west ; to the south 
and to the north, and in thee, and in .thy 
seed, shall all the families of the earth be 
blessed." 

Did the Patriarch awake in a rapture 
of joy, when he had been thus so highly 
favored of the Lord ? You shall hear : 
" And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and 
he said, Surely the Lord is in this place, 
and I knew it not : and he was afraid, 
and said, How dreadful is this place !. 
This is none other but the house of 
God, and this is the gate of heaven.'^ 
Though he had ascended in the visions of' 
God, and beheld scenes of glory which, 
few are admitted to see ; though he had' 
received the most gracious promises of 
personal safety, of prosperous increase 
to his descendants, and of the Messiah 
who was to spring from his race, neverthe- 
less an impression of reverence and awe 
was the last which remained upon his 
mind. 

In like manner, my friends, although 
you have the near prospect of commem- 
orating the most joyful event which sig- 
nalizes the annals of time, yet if, at the 
approaching solemnity, God shall be in, 
this place, you will experience that state 
of mind which the Patriarch was in when, 
he awoke from his dream, and an impres- 
sion of seriousness and awe will keep its 



34 



SERMON V. 



hold of your hearts. There is a degree 
of reverence and holy fear which ever at- 
tends religion. Even when God manifests 
his mercy, it is, that he may be feared. 
Hence we are called to serve the Lord 
with fear, and rejoice before him with 
reverence. All objects make an impres- 
sion upon the mind correspondent to their 
own nature. A beautiful object calls 
forth pleasing ideas, and excites a gay 
emotion. A grand object leaves upon the 
mind an impression of grandeur. In all 
sublime scenes, there is a mixture of the 
awful. The view of the skies by night ; 
the moon moving in the brightness of her 
course ; and the host of heaven in silent 
majesty performing their eternal rounds, 
strike an awe and adoration into the mind ; 
we feel divinity present ; we bow down 
and worship in the temple which the Most 
High God hath built with his hand, and 
hath filled with his presence. The pres- 
ence of a respectable character raises a 
similar impression on the mind ; and the 
man, who sets the Lord always before him, 
will feel his heart impressed with that 
mixture of seriousness and holy fear, 
which the Psalmist here recommends, when 
he says, " Stand in awe." 

In further treating upon this subject, I 
shall, in the first place, point out the ad- 
vantages of this seriousness and reverence 
which we ought to maintain upon our 
minds ; and in the second place, show you 
the suitableness of this temper of mind to 
our present state. 

The first thing proposed, is to point out 
the advantages of this seriousness and rev- 
erence which we ought to maintain upon 
our minds. 

The great art of happiness consists in 
regulating, with propriety, the various 
offices of human life. To allow no duty 
to interfere with another ; to prevent de- 
votion from growing austere ; and to re- 
strain enjoyment from being criminal, is 
the mark of true wisdom, and of true 
piety. Every department of life is beau- 
tiful in its season. There is a time to be 
cheerful, and a time to be serious : an 
hour for solitude, and an hour for society. 
Providence hath appointed great part of 
our happiness to consist in society. We 
find, in every situation of life, that it is 
not good for us to be alone. Hence, civil 



society at first was instituted ; hence, at- 
tachments are daily formed ; and man is 
eemented to man by every feeling of nature, 
and every tie of the heart. But, as we 
abuse and corrupt every thing, the bless- 
ing of society is often turned into a curse. 
To innocent cheerfulness, a wanton levity 
succeeds, which banishes sober thought, 
and laughs at every thing that is serious. 
How often, in life, do we meet with the 
sons and daughters of folly, whose sole 
business is amusement ; whose life is one 
continued scene of idleness and dissipation; 
everlasting triflers, whose volatile minds 
are perpetually on the wing, as if they 
had been sent to this earth merely to play 
the fool ? 

Not that I condemn cheerful society 
and innocent enjoyment. When God 
gives, let man enjoy. Let us drink from 
the fountain of joy, when we are sure 
there is no poison in the cup. But, my 
brethren, I must remind you, that but a 
narrow interval, often but a single step, 
lies between enjoyment and excess ; be- 
tween the voice of mirth, and the roar of 
riot ; between innocent entertainment, and 
a loose and licentious indulgence. Look 
back on your past life, and tell me, 0 man ! 
when was it that you felt yourself most 
strongly inclined to go astray? When was 
it that you found yourself seduced in 
thought, to wander from the paths of puri- 
ty and uprightness ? Was it not in the 
hour of levity and indulgence ? Did not 
your heart betray you when your spirits 
were elevated ; when you had banished 
sober recollection, and delivered yourself 
over to the delirium of excessive joy ? 
Here then is the advantage of seriousness 
and reverence. It places a guard upon 
the heart. It keeps the world and its 
temptations at a due distance. It conse- 
crates the mind in which it resides, as 
with the presence of the Deity. A heart 
thus impressed with the fear of God will 
not so readily be assaulted by the tempter ; 
nor so easily yield to the temptation. An 
impure and profane guest will hardly ven- 
ture upon hallowed ground, or dare to 
violate the sanctity of a temple. The 
presence of a good man is a check upon 
the turbulence and uproar of the giddy ; 
they are inspired with a reverence for his 
character ; they feel how awful goodness 



ON REVERENCE AND HOLY FEAR. 



35 



is, and restrain themselves from those in- 
decent levities to which they are accus- 
tomed. If a regard for man has such in- 
fluencS upon the mind, what may the fear 
of God be supposed to have ? The man 
who is possessed of this holy fear, sets 
the Lord always before him. He enters 
beforehand into heaven, and dwells in the 
presence of God. And canst thou, 0 
man ! defile the purity of heaven with the 
deeds of hell ? Darest thou violate the 
law in the presence of the Lawgiver ? 
Darest thou sin in the very face of thy 
Maker ? Wilt thou make the Judge of all 
the earth the witness of thy wicked actions, 
the beholder of thy loose moments ? No. 
In such a presence thou wilt banish all 
impure thoughts, and all unhallowed affec- 
tions, like Moses at the burning bush, be- 
cause the place whereon thou standest is 
holy ground. 

Thus, of itself, this serious frame of 
mind is the guardian and the protector of 
religion ; and it also associates with other 
virtues which belong to the Christian 
character. Those who are acquainted 
with the nature of the mind, know the in- 
fluence and extent of association upon hu- 
man life and manners. It is not a single 
quality that marks and characterizes a 
man ; the virtues and the vices come in a 
train ; it is the temper of the soul which 
is all in all in the conduct of human life. 
But to the temper and disposition here 
recommended, the most respectable attri- 
Trates of the mind, and the most amiable 
qualities of the heart, are allied and pe- 
culiar. 

In the first place, this serious frame of 
mind cherishes those higher virtues of the 
soul, which, in the emphatic language of 
the sacred Scripture, are called " the ar- 
mor of God." In the solemn silence of 
the mind are formed those great resolu- 
tions which decide the fate of men ; that 
magnanimity which rises superior to the 
events of life ; that fortitude which bears 
up under the pressure of affliction ; and 
that Christian heroism, which, neither 
moved with the threatenings of pain, nor 
with the blandishments of pleasure, holds 
on rejoicing to the end : are all of them 
but expressions of this character, varied 
and diversified according to the occur- 
rences of life. They are the light, the 



giddy, and the volatile, who are the sport 
of caprice, or the prey of passion. Per- 
sons of such a character have no perma- 
nent principle of action ; they are the sin- 
ners or the saints of accident; and assume 
every folly to which the fashion of the 
world gives its sanction. Very different 
is the serious man, who communes with 
his own heart. He follows not the multi- 
tude. He possesses that strenuous and 
steady mind, which walks by its own light, 
which holds its purpose to the last ; that 
self-deciding spirit which is prepared to 
act, to suffer, or to die, as duty requires. 
Being thus, by the grace of God, the mas- 
ter of his own mind, he is above the 
world ; and through prosperity or adver- 
sity, through life or death, goes forth con- 
quering and to conquer. He is not guided 
by events like the giddy multitude, who 
fall into any form by the fortuitous con- 
course of accidents ; but, imitating the 
providence of Heaven, he takes a direction 
of events, and makes the course of human 
affairs bend to his purposes, and terminate 
in his honor. 

Further, this temper and disposition is 
no less favorable to the milder virtues of 
humanity. A serious mind is the com- 
panion of a feeling heart. It is akin to 
that virtuous sensibility, from which all 
the sympathetic emotions are derived ; 
and readily associates with those good 
affections which constitute the most amia- 
ble part of our nature. The thoughtless 
and the dissipated are unconcerned spec- 
tators of human happiness or misery ; they 
mar not their enjoyments by rushing into 
foreign woe ; and are never so much in 
earnest, as to give a tear to the distresses 
of mankind. " They lie upon beds of 
ivory," saith the prophet; " they stretch 
themselves upon their couches ; they chant 
to the sound of the viol ; and they anoint 
themselves with the chief ointments : but 
they are not grieved for the affliction of 
their brethren." But he who feareth God 
will also regard man. The hour of incense 
has always been the hour of almsgiving. 
Whilst the heart is lifted up in devotion 
to God, the hands will be stretched out in 
beneficence to man. Think not, my friends, 
that these are duties of inferior import- 
ance, and not proper to be called up to 
your remembrance upon this occasion. 



36 



SERMON V. 



The ordinance which you are soon to cele- 
brate, is the communion of saints, and the 
feast of love. The cup of blessing which 
we bless, saith the apostle, is it not the 
communion of the blood of Christ ? The 
bread which we break, is it not the com- 
munion of the body of Christ ? As we 
are all partakers of that one bread, so by 
that participation, we being many, become 
one body. Being thus the members of 
one body, the great law follows, which he 
afterwards lays down, that if one member 
suffers, all the members should suffer with 
it ; and if one member rejoices, all the 
members should rejoice. 

The second thing proposed, was to show 
you the suitableness of this temper of 
mind to our present state. 

And, in the first place, it is suited to 
that dark and uncertain state of being in 
which we now live. Human life is not 
formed to answer those high expectations, 
which, in the era of youth and imagina- 
tion, we are apt to entertain. When we 
first set out in life, we bid defiance to the 
evil day ; we indulge ourselves in dreams 
and visions of romantic bliss ; and fondly 
lay the scene of perfect and uninterrupted 
happiness for the time to come. But ex- 
perience soon undeceives us. We awake, 
and find that it was but a dream. We 
make but few steps in life, without finding 
the world to be a turbulent scene ; we 
soon experience the changes that await us, 
and feel the thorns of the wilderness 
wherein we dwell. Our hopes are fre- 
quently blasted in the bud ; our designs 
are defeated in the very moment of ex- 
pectation, and we meet with sorrow, and 
vexation, and disappointment, on all hands. 
There are lives besides our own, in which 
we are deeply interested ; lives in which 
our happiness is placed, and on which our 
hopes depend. J ust when we have laid a 
plan of happy life ; when, after the expe- 
rience of years, we have found out a few 
chosen friends, and have begun to enjoy 
>that little circle in which we would wish to 
live and to die, an unexpected stroke dis- 
appoints our hopes, and lays all our 
schemes in the dust. When, after much 
labor and care, we have reared the goodly 
structure ; when we have fenced it, as we 
fondly imagine, from every storm that 
blows, and indulge the pleasing hope, that 



it will always endure, an invisible hand in- 
terposes, and overturns it from the foun- 
dation. Who knoweth what awaits him 
in life ? Who knoweth the changes through 
which he is destined to pass ? Son of pros- 
perity ! Thou now lookest forth from thy 
high tower; thou now gloriest in thine 
excellence ; thou sayest that thy mountain 
stands strong, and that thou art firm as 
the cedar of Lebanon — But stand in awe. 
Before the mighty God of Jacob, and by 
the blast of the breath of his nostrils, the 
mountain hath been overturned, and the 
cedar in Lebanon hath fallen like the leaf 
before the whirlwind. At this very mo- 
ment of time, the wheel is in motion that 
reverses the lot of men ; that brings the 
prosperous to the dust, and lays the mighty 
low. Now, 0 man ! thou rejoicest in thy 
strength ; but know, that for thee the bed 
of languishing is spread ; pale, ghastly, 
and stretched on thy couch, thou shalt 
number the tedious hours, the restless 
days, the wearisome nights, that are ap- 
pointed to thee, till thy soul shall be ready 
to " choose death rather than life." Thou 
now removest from thee the evil day, and 
sayest, in thy heart, thou shalt never see 
sorrow : but remember the changes of this 
mortal life ; for thee the " cup of trem- 
bling " is prepared, and the wine of as- 
tonishment is poured "out." How often, 
in an instant, doth a hand unseen, shift 
the scene of the world? The calmest and 
the stillest hour precedes the whirlwind, 
and it hath thundered in the serenest sky. 
The monarch hath drawn the chariot of 
state, in which he was wont to ride in tri- 
umph, and the greatest who ever awed the 
world have moralized at the turn of the 
wheel. 

In the second place, The propriety of 
this temper will appear, if we consider 
the scene that soon awaits us, and the 
awful change of being that we have to un- 
dergo. The sentence of the Lord is passed 
upon all flesh. Man, who art born of a wo- 
man ! one day thou must die. The decree 
is gone forth, and the time appointed for 
its fulfilment is approaching fast. Short is 
the period which is allotted to mortal 
man. In a little time the scene changes, 
and the places that knew us shall know us 
no more. We bid an eternal adieu to all 
below the sun ; we enter on a new state 



ON DEATH. 



37 



of being, and appear in the immediate 
presence of God. After death comes the 
judgment. Thou must answer, 0 man, to 
the Searcher of hearts, for the deeds done 
in the body. The actions of thy past life 
.shall rise up to thy remembrance ; the se- 
crets of thy soul shall be disclosed; and thy 
eternal doom be fixed by God, the Judge 
of all. In thy last moments, thou wilt be 
serious, and stand in awe. The most 
thoughtless sinner will stand aghast, and 
the stoutest heart will tremble at that 
awful, that parting hour, when, to the 
closing eye, God appears, with as fall con- 
viction, as if the curtain between both 
worlds was withdrawn, and the Judge in 
very deed descended to his tribunal. 
How serious wilt thou be when surround- 
ed by the sad circle of thy weeping 
friends, thou readest in their altered looks 
that thy hour is come ; when cut off from 
all connection with mortality, thou takest 
thy last look of what thou heldest dear in 
life ; when the cold sweat, the shivering 
limb, and the voice faltering in the throat, 
announce thy departure into the world 
unknown ! What manner of persons ought 
we to be, who have such events awaiting 
us ! Ought we not to stand in awe ; to 
join trembling with our mirth ; to com- 
mune with our hearts alone, and be still 
as in the presence of that God, before 
whose tribunal we have soon to appear ? 

In the third place. This frame of mind 
is peculiarly proper for you now, as a pre- 
paration for that solemnity which you are 
soon to celebrate. Holy is every ordinance 
of the Lord ; but this is the holiest of all, 
and should inspire us with reverence and 
godly fear. You are to be engaged in the 
most solemn ordinance of our religion. 
You are to be employed in the^ most im- 
portant work of your lives, to seal your 
vows in the faith of everlasting redemp- 
tion. You are going to transact with the 
God of Glory, before whom ten thousand 
times ten thousand angels and archangels 
bow down and admire and adore. You 
are about to commemorate the most tre- 
mendous event which is to be found in the 
records of time ; that scene which made 
the sun grow dark, and which the earth 
trembled to behold. God shows himself 
to be awful, even when he manifests his 
mercy, and causes all his goodness to pass 



before you. "When he blesses men with 
the greatest testimony of his love, it is by 
smiting his own Son ; when the gate of 
heaven is set open to the world, it is open- 
ed by the blond of One who is higher than 
the heavens. Whilst thou rejoicest there- 
fore at the remembrance of thy redemp- 
tion, think with wonder upon the ransom 
by which it is accomplished, and implore 
the assistance of the Divine spirit, that 
you may serve God acceptably, with rev- 
erence and godly fear. 



SERMON VI. 

ON DEATH. 

Job xxx. 23. — " For I know that thou wilt bring 
me to death, and to the house appointed for 
all living." 

This book of Job contains the history of 
a righteous man, fallen from the height 
of prosperity, into scenes of great distress. 
Almost every affliction which falls to the 
lot of mortal man embittered his life. 
His goods were taken away by robbers ; 
his body was smitten by a loathsome and 
tormenting disease ; his family was cut off, 
and all his company made desolate by a 
sudden stroke from heaven ; his surviving 
friends proved miserable comforters, and, 
instead of relieving, added to his afflic- 
tions. His head was bare to every blast 
of adversity, and his heart bled with all 
the varieties of pain. In the course of 
his complaint, he utters the genuine voice 
of sorrow, and pours forth his soul in la- 
mentation and woe. He sets before us 
the evil day ; he shows us the dark side 
of things, and presents to view those 
shades in the picture of human life, which 
must one day meet our eye. From these 
calamities, he passes, by a natural transi- 
tion, to the consideration of the last evil 
in human life : " I know that thou wilt 
bring me to death, and to the house ap- 
pointed for all living." 

Man is a serious being. There is a 
string in the heart which accords to the 
voice of sorrow, and impressions of grief 
take the strongest hold of the mind. 
There is a time when solitude has a 



38 



SERMON VI. 



charm ; when cheerfulness gives place to 
melancholy ; and when the house of 
mourning is better suited to the soui than 
the house of mirth. Even our amuse- 
ments often partake of a serious turn. 
For the sake of amusement, we give our 
attention to histories of woe we sit spec- 
tators to the scene of sorrow, and devote 
the hours to melancholy and to tears. 
And yet, by a strange perversion of mind, 
though we rush into foreign woe, and take 
delight in weeping for the fate of others, 
yet our own departure excites little at- 
tention or regard, notwithstanding the 
many warnings which tell us that here we 
have no continuing city. Although few 
weeks elapse without being marked with 
the funeral of a neighbor or a friend, 
we remain in a criminal indifference ; the 
tear is soon dried upon our cheeks, and 
we muse upon the fate of our friends with 
unconcern. If, by removing the thought 
of death, men could remove the day of 
death, their conduct would admit of an 
excuse. But whether you think of it or 
not, death approaches, and the want of 
preparation will only serve to sharpen the 
sting, by the surprise with which it may 
strike. 

Since we know then assuredly, that 
God will bring us to death, and to the 
house appointed for all living, let us con- 
sider, in the first place, the certainty of 
its approaching soon ; secondly, the time 
and manner of its arrival ; and, thirdly, 
the change which it introduces. 

In the first place, let us consider the 
certainty of death's approaching soon. 

All the works of nature, in this inferior 
system, seem only made to be destroyed. 
Man is not exempted. There is a princi- 
ple of mortality in our frame, and, as if 
we were only born to die, the first step 
we take in life is a step to the grave. It 
was not always so. Adam came from the 
hands of his Creator perfect and immor- 
tal. The Almighty created man after his 
own image. He planted in his frame the 
seeds of eternal life, to grow and flourish 
through a succession of ages. This noble 
shoot, which the hand of the Most High 
had planted, was blasted by sin. When 
man became a sinner, he became mortal. 
The doom was pronounced, that, after few 
and evil days, he should return to the 



dust from whence he was taken. Since 
that time, as soon as our eyes open on the 
light, we come under the law of mortali- 
ty, and the sentence of death is passed. 
In the morning of our day, we set out on 
our journey for eternity ; thither we are ( 
all fast tending ; and day and night we 
travel on without intermission. There is 
no standing still on this road. To this 
great rendezvous of the sons of Adam we 
are continually drawing nearer and nearer. 
Our life is for ever on the wing, although 
we mark not its flight. Our motion down 
the stream of time is so smooth and si- 
lent, that though we are for ever moving, 
we perceive it not, till we arrive at the 
ocean of eternity. Even now, death m 
doing his work. At this very moment of 
time, multitudes are stretched on that bed 
from which they shall rise no more. The 
blood is ceasing to flow; the - breath is 
going out ; and the spirit taking its de- 
parture for the world unknown. 

When we look back on our former 
years, how many do we find who began 
the journey of life along with us, and pro- 
mised to themselves long life and happy 
days, cut off in the midst of their career, 
and fallen at our side ! They have but 
gone before us ; one day we must follow. 
0 man ! who now rejoicest in the pride 
of life, and looking abroad, sayest in thy 
heart, thou shalt never see sorrow, for 
thee the bed of death is spread; the 
worm calls for thee to be her companion ; 
thou must enter the dominions of the 
dead, and be gathered to the dust of thy 
fathers. If then death be certainly ap- 
proaching fast, let us learn the true value 
of life. If death be at hand, then certainly 
time is precious. Now the day shines, and 
the Master calls us ; in a little time the 
night cometh, when no man can work. To- 
day, therefore, hear the voice which calls you 
to heaven. " Now is the accepted time ; 
now is the day of salvation." Whatso- 
ever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy 
might ; for there is no work, nor device, 
nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, 
whither thou goest." 

In the second place, we may consider 
the time and manner of the arrival of 
death. 

Death is called in Scripture, the land 
witlwut any order ; and without any or- 



ON DEATH. 



39 



der the king of terrors makes his ap- 
proaches in the world. The commission 
given from on high was, " Go into the 
world : Strike ; strike so, that the dead 
may alarm the living." Hence it is, that 
we seldom see men running the full 
career of life ; growing old among their 
children's children, and then falling 
asleep in the arms of nature, as in the 
embraces of a kind mother ; coming to 
the grave like a shock of corn fully ripe ; 
like flowers that shut .up at the close of 
the day. Death walks through the world 
without any order. He delights to sur- 
prise, to give a shock to mankind. 
Hence, he leaves the wretched to prolong 
the line of their sorrows, and cuts off the 
fortunate in the midst of their career ; 
he suffers the aged to survive himself, 
to outlive life, to stalk about the ghost of 
what he was, and aims his arrow at the 
heart of the young who puts the evil day 
far from him. He delights to see the 
feeble carrying the vigorous to the grave, 
and the father building the tomb of his 
children. Often when his approaches are 
least expected, he bursts at once upon the 
world, like an earthquake in the dead of 
night, or thunder in the serene sky. All 
ages and conditions he sweeps away with- 
out distinction; the -young man just en- 
tering into life, high in hope, elated with 
joy, and promising to himself a length of 
years ; the father of a family from the 
embraces of his wife and children ; the 
man of the world, when his designs are 
ripening to execution, and the long ex- 
pected crisis of enjoyment seems to ap- 
proach. These and all others are hurried 
promiscuously off the stage, and laid 
without order in the common grave. 
Every path in the world leatls to the 
tomb, and every hour in life hath been 
to some the last hour. 

Without order too, is the manner of 
death's approach. The king of terrors 
wears a thousand forms ; pains and dis- 
eases, a numerous and a direful train, 
compose his host. Marking out unhappy 
man for their prey, they attack the seat 
of life, or the seat of understanding ; hur- 
ry him off the stage in an instant, or 
make him pine by slow degrees : blasting 
the bloom of life, or, waiting till the de- 
cline, according to the pathetic picture of 



Solomon, " They make the strong men 
bow themselves, and the keepers of the 
house tremble ; make the grinders cease ; 
bring the daughters of music low ; m dark- 
en the sun, and the moon, and the stars ; 
scatter fears in the way, and make desire 
itself to fail, until the silver cord be 
loosed, and the golden bowl be broken, 
when the dust returns to the dust as it 
was, and the spirit ascends to God who 
gave it." 

In the third place, We have to con- 
sider the change which death introduces. 

Man was made after the image of God ; 
and the human form divine, the seat of so 
many heavenly faculties, graces and vir- 
tues, exhibits a temple not unworthy of 
its Maker. Men in their collective capa- 
city, and united as nations, have displayed 
a wide field of exertion and of glory. The 
globe hath been covered with monuments 
of their power, and the voice of history 
transmits their renown from one genera- 
tion to another. But when we pass from 
the living world to the dead, what a sad 
picture do we behold ! The fall and deso- 
lation of human nature ; the ruins of man ; 
the dust and ashes of many generations 
scattered over the earth. The high and 
the low ; the mighty and the mean • the 
king and the cottager, lie blended toge- 
ther without any order. The worm is .the 
companion, is the sister of him, who 
thought himself of a different species from 
the rest of mankind. A few feet of earth 
contain the ashes of him who conquered 
the globe ; the shadows of the long night 
stretch over all alike ; the monarch of dis- 
order, the great leveller of mankind, lays 
all on the bed of clay in equal meanness. 
In the course of time, the land of desola- 
tion becomes still more desolate; the 
things that were, become as if they had 
never been ; Babylon? is a ruin, her heroes 
are dust ; not a trace remains of the glory 
that shone over the earth, and not a stone 
to tell where the master of the world is 
laid. Such, in general, is the humiliating 
aspect of the tomb; but let us take a 
nearer view of the house appointed for all 
living. Man sets out in the morning of 
his day, high in hope, and elated with joy. 
The most important objects to him are 
the companions of his journey. They set 
out together in the career of life, and. 



40 



SERMON VI. 



after many mutual endearments, walk 
hand in hand through the paths of child- 
hood and of youth. It is with a giddy 
recollection we look back on the past, 
when we consider the number and the 
value of those, whom unforeseen disaster 
and the hand of destiny have swept from 
our side. Alas ! "When the awful man- 
date comes from on high concerning men, 
to change the countenance, and to send 
them away, what sad spectacles do they 
become ! The friends whom we knew, and 
valued, and loved ; our companions in the 
path of life ; the partners of our tender 
hours, with whom we took sweet counsel, 
and walked in company to the house of 
God, have passed to the land of forgetful- 
ness, and have no more connection with 
the living world. Low lies the head that 
was once crowned with honor. Silent is 
the tongue to whose accents we surrendered 
the soul, and to whose language of friend- 
ship and aifection we wished to listen for 
ever. Beamless is the eye, and closed in 
night, which looked serenity and sweet- 
ness and love. The face that was to us 
as the face of an angel, is mangled and 
deformed ; the heart that glowed with the 
purest fire, and beat with best affections, 
is now become a clod of the valley. 

But shall it always continue so ? If a 
man die, shall he live again ! There is 
hope of a tree if it be cut down ; but 
man giveth up the ghost, and where is he ? 
Has the breath of the Almighty, which 
animated his frame, vanished into the air ? 
Is he who triumphed in the hope of im- 
mortality, inferior to the worm, his com- 
panion in the tomb ? Will light never 
rise on the long night of the grave ? Does 
the mighty flood that has swept away the 
nations and the ages, ebb to flow no more ? 
Have the wise and the worthy ; the pious 
and the pure; the generous and the just; 
the great and the good ; the excellent 
ones of the earth, who, from age to age, 
have shone brighter than all the stars of 
heaven, withdrawn into the shade of an- 
nihilation, and set in darkness to rise no 
more ? No. While " the dust returns to 



the earth as it was, the spirit thall return 
unto God who gave it." Life and immor- 
tality are brought to light by the Gospel 
of Christ. " We know, that if our earthly 
house of this tabernacle were dissolved, 
we have a building of God, an house not, 
made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 

The periods of human life passing 
away; the certainty of the dissolution 
which awaits us, and the frequent exam- 
ples of mortality, which continually strike 
our view, lead us to reflect with serious- 
ness upon the house appointed for all 
living. Death is the great teacher of 
mankind ; the voice of wisdom comes from 
the tomb ; reflections, which show us the 
vanity, will teach us the value of life. 
Such meditations are particularly suited 
to beings like us, who are subject to in- 
firmities and defects. For such is the 
weakness of human nature in this imper- 
fect state ; such is the strength of tempta- 
tion in this evil world, that frail man is 
often led astray before he is aware. The 
enemy of the soul attacks us in every 
quarter ; approaches often under false 
colors, and tries every disguise, to de- 
ceive and to destroy. Vice often borders 
on virtue ; the narrow path and the broad 
way lie so near, that it is difficult to dis- 
tinguish them, so as to order our goings 
aright. Inadvertence may frequently be- 
tray ; the impetuosity of passion may 
precipitate, and the gentleness of our own 
nature mislead us into steps fatal to our 
peace. I speak not of wicked men, who ac- 
knowledge no guide but their passions, 
and submit to no law but what one 
vice imposes upon another. I talk of the 
sincere and the good. The most watch- 
ful Christian has his unguarded moments ; 
the most prudent man speaks unadvisedly 
with his lips, and the meekest lets the 
sun go down upon his wrath. Alas ! 
Man in his best estate is altogether 
vanity, and always stands in need of the 
lesson from the tomb. " 0 that they were 
wise," said Moses, " that they understood 
this, that they would consider their latter 
end ! " 



ON THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY OVER DEATH. 



41 



SERMON VII. 

ON THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY OVER DEATH. 

1 Cor. xv. 55, 57.— " O death! Where is thy 
sting? 0 grave! Where is thy victory? — 
Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory, 
through our Lord Jesus Christ." 

The Messiah is foretold in ancient pro- 
phecy, as a magnificent Conqueror. His 
victories were celebrated, and his tri- 
umphs were sung, long before the time of 
bis appearance to Israel. "Who is this," 
saith the prophet Isaiah, pointing him out to 
the Old Testament Church, " Who is this 
that cometh from Edom ; with dyed gar- 
ments from Bozrah ? This that is glorious 
in his apparel, travelling in the greatness 
of his strength ? " — " I have set my King 
upon my holy hill of Zion. I shall give 
him the heathen for his inheritance, and 
the uttermost parts of the earth for his 
possession." As a Conqueror, he had to 
destroy the works of the great enemy of 
mankind; and to overcome death, the 
king of terrors. 

The method of accomplishing this vic- 
tory, was as surprising as the love which 
gave it birth. " Forasmuch as the chil- 
dren are partakers of flesh and blood, he 
himself likewise took part of the same, 
that through his own death, he might de- 
stroy him that had the power of death, 
that is the devil, and deliver them, who, 
through fear of death, were all their life- 
time subject to bondage." Accordingly, 
his passion on the cross, which you have 
this day commemorated, was the very vic- 
tory 'which he obtained. The hour in 
which* he suffered, was also the hour in 
which he overcame. Then he bruised the 
head of the old serpent, who had seduced 
our first parents to rebel against their 
Maker ; then he disarmed the king of ter- 
rors, who had usurped dominion over the 
nations ; then triumphing over the legions 
of hell, and the powers of darkness, he 
made a show of them openly. Not for 
himself, but for us did he conquer. The 
Captain of our salvation fought, that we 
might overcome. He obtained the victo- 
ry, that we may join in the triumphal 
song, as we now do, when we repeat these 
words of the apostle ; " 0 death ! where is 
thy sting ? 0 grave ! where is thy victory 1 " 



It is the glory of the Christian religion, 
that it abounds with consolations under 
all the evils of life ; nor is its benign in- 
fluence confined to the course of life, but 
even extends to death itself. It delivers 
us from the agony of the last hour ; sets 
us free from the fears which then perplex 
the timid ; from the horrors which haunt 
the offender, though penitent, and from 
all the darkness which involves our mor- 
tal state. So complete is the victory we 
obtain, that Jesus Christ is said in Scrip- 
ture to have abolished death. 

The evils in death, from which Jesus 
Christ sets us free, are the following : in 
the Jirst place, The doubts and fears that 
are apt to perplex the mind, from the un- 
certainty in which a future state is invol- 
ved. Secondly, The apprehensions of 
wrath and forebodings of punishments, 
proceeding from the consciousness of sin. 
Thirdly, the fears that arise in the mind 
upon the awful transition from this world 
to the next. 

In the first place, Jesus Christ gives us 
victory over death, by delivering us from 
the doubts and fears which arose in the 
minds of those who knew not the gospel, 
from the uncertainty in which a future 
state was involved. 

Without Divine Revelation, men wan- 
dered in the dark with respect to an after 
life. Unassisted reason could give but 
imperfect information on this important 
article. Conjectures, in place of disco- 
veries, presumptions, in place of demon- 
strations, were all that it could offer to the 
inquiring mind. The unenlightened eye 
could not clearly pierce the cloud which 
veiled futurity from mortal view. The 
light of nature reached little farther than 
the limits of this globe, and shed but a fee- 
ble ray upon the region beyond the grave. 
Hence, those heathen nations, of whom the 
apostle speaks, are described as sorrow- 
ing and having no hope. And whence 
could reason derive complete information, 
that there was a state of immortality 
beyond the grave ? Consult with appear- 
ances in nature, and you find but few in- 
timations of a future life. Destruction 
seems to be one of the great laws of the 
system. The various forms of life are in- 
deed preserved ; but while the species re- 
mains, the individual perishes. Every 



42 



SERMON VIT. 



thing that you behold around you, bears 
the marks of mortality, and the symptoms 
of decay. He only who is, and was, and 
is to come, is without any variableness or 
shadow of turning. Every thing passes 
away. A great and mighty river, for ages 
and centuries, has been rolling on, and 
sweeping away all that ever lived, to the 
vast abyss of eternity. On that darkness 
light does not rise. From that unknown 
country none return. On that devouring 
deep, which has swallowed up every thing, 
no vestige appears of the things that were. 

There are particular appearances also 
which might naturally excite an alarm for 
the future. The human machine is so 
constituted, that soul and body seem often 
to decay together. To the eye of sense, 
as the beast dies, so dies the man. Death 
seems to close the scene, and the grave to 
put a final period to the prospects of man. 
The words of Job beautifully express the 
anxiety of the mind on the subject. " If 
a man die, shall he live again ? There 
is hope of a tree if it be cut down , that 
it will sprout again, and that the tender 
branch thereof will not cease. Though 
the root thereof wax old in the earth, 
and the stock thereof die in the ground ; 
yet, through the scent of water it will 
bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant : 
but man dieth, and is cut off; man 
giveth up the ghost, and where is he ? 
As the waters fail from the sea ; as the 
flood decayeth and drieth up ; so man 
lieth down, and riseth not ; till the 
heavens be no more, they shall not awake, 
nor be raised out of their sleep." But 
what a dreadful prospect does annihilation 
present to the mind ! To be an outcast 
from existence ; to be blotted out from the 
book of life ; to mingle with the dust, and 
be scattered over the earth, as if the 
breath of life had never animated our 
frame ! Man cannot support the thought. 
Is the light which shone brighter than all 
the stars of heaven set in darkness, to rise 
no more ? Are all the hopes of man come 
to this, to be taken into the councils of 
the Almighty ; to be admitted to behold 
part of that plan of Providence which 
governs the world, and when his eyes are 
just opened, to read the book, to be shut 
for ever ? If such were to be our state, 
we would be of all creatures the most 



miserable. The world appears a chaos 
without form, and void of order. From 
the throne of nature, God departs, a-nd 
there appears a cruel and capricious 
being, who delights in death, and makes 
sport of human misery. 

From this state of doubts and fears, we 
are delivered by the G-ospel of Jesus. The 
message which he brought, was life and 
immortality. From the Star of Jacob, 
light shone even upon the shades of death. 
As a proof of immortality, he called back 
the departed spirit from the world un- 
known ; as an earnest of the resurrection 
to a future life, he himself arose from 
the dead. When we contemplate the tomb 
of nature, we cry out, " Can these dry 
bones live ? " When we contemplate 
the tomb of Jesus, we say, " Yes, they 
can live ! " As he arose, we shall in like 
manner arise. In the tomb of nature, you 
see man return to the dust from whence 
he was taken. In the tomb of J esus, you 
see man restored to life again. In the 
tomb of nature, you see the shades of 
death fall on the weary traveller, and the 
darkness of the long night close over his 
head. In the tomb of Jesus, you see light 
arise upon the shades of death, and the 
morning 'dawn upon the long night of the 
grave. On the tomb of nature, it is 
written, " Behold thy end, 0 man ! Dust 
thou art, and unto dust thou shalt re- 
turn. Thou, who now callest thyself the 
son of heaven, shall become one of the 
clods of the valley." On the tomb of 
Christ is written, " Thou diest, 0 man ! 
but to live again. When dust returns 
to dust, the spirit shall return to Glod 
who gave it. I am the resurrection and 
the life ; he that believeth in me, though 
he were dead, yet shall he live." From 
the tomb of nature, you hear a voice, 
" For ever silent is the land of forgetful- 
ness ? From the slumbers of the grave, 
shall we awake no more ? Like the 
flowers of the field, shall we be as though 
we had never been ? " From the tomb 
of Jesus, you hear, " Blessed are the dead 
that die in the Lord, thus saith the 
Spirit, for they rest from their labors, 
and pass into glory : — In my Father's 
house, there are many mansions ; if it 
were not so, I would have told you : I 
go to prepare a place for you, and if I 



ON THE CHRISTIAN'S 



VICTORY OVER DEATH. 



43 



go away, I will come again, and take you 
unto myself, that where I am, there ye 
may be also." 

Will not this assurance of a happy im- 
mortality, and a blessed resurrection, in a 
great measure remove the terror and the 
sting of death ? May we not walk with- 
out dismay through the dark valley, when 
we are conducted by a beam from heaven ? 
May we not endure the tossings of one 
stormy night, when it carries us to the 
shore that we long for ? What cause have 
we to dread the messenger who brings us 
to our Father's house ? Should not our 
fears about futurity abate, when we hear 
God addressing us with respect to death, 
as he did the Patriarch of old, upon going 
to Egypt, " Fear not to go down to the 
grave; I will go down with thee, and will 
bring thee up again." 

Secondly, Our victory over death con- 
sists in our being delivered from the ap- 
prehensions of wrath, and forebodings of 
punishment, which arise in the mind from 
the consciousness of sin. 

That there is a God who governs the 
world, the patron of righteousness, and the 
avenger of sin, is so manifest from the light 
of nature, that the belief of it has obtained 
among all nations. That it shall be well 
with the righteous, and ill with the wick- 
ed ; that God will reward those who dili- 
gently seek him, and punish those who 
transgress his laws, is the principle upon 
which all religion is founded. But whether 
mercy be an attribute in the Divine nature 
to such an extent that God may be ren- 
dered propitious to those who rebel against 
his authority, and disobey his command- 
ments, is an inquiry to which no satisfac- 
tory answer can be made. Many of the 
Divine attributes are conspicuous from the 
works of creation ; the power, the wisdom, 
and the goodness of God, appear in creat- 
ing the world ; in superintending that 
world which he has made ; in diffusing 
life wide over the system of things, and 
providing the means of happiness to all 
bis creatures. But from no appearances 
in nature does it clearly follow, that the 
exercise of mercy to offenders is part of 
the plan by which the universe is govern- 
ed. For any thing that we know from the 
light of nature, repentance alone may not 
be sufficient to procure the remission of 



sins ; the tears of contrition may be un- 
available to wash away the stains of a 
guilty life, and the Divine favor may be 
implored in vain by those who have be- 
come obnoxious to the Divine displeasure. 
If in the calm and serene hour of inquiry, 
man could find no consolation in such 
thoughts, how would he be overwhelmed 
with horror, when his mind was disordered 
with a sense of guilt? When remem- 
brance brought his former . life to view, 
when reflection pierced him to the heart, 
darkness would spread itself over his mind, 
Deity would appear an object of terror, 
and the spirit, wounded by remorse, would 
discern nothing but an offended Judge 
armed with thunders to punish the guilty. 
If, in the day of health and prosperity, 
these reflections were so powerful to em- 
bitter life, they would be a source of agony 
and despair when the last hour approach- 
ed. When life flows according to our 
wishes, we may endeavor to conceal our 
sins, and shut our ears against the voice 
of conscience. But these artifices will 
avail little at the hour of death. Then 
things appear in their true colors. Then 
conscience tells the truth, and the mask is 
taken off from the man, when our sins at 
that hour pass before us in review. Guilty 
and polluted as we are, covered with con- 
fusion, How shall we appear at the judg- 
ment seat of God, and answer at the bar 
of eternal justice ? How shall dust and 
ashes stand in the presence of that un- 
created Glory, before which principalities 
and powers bow down, tremble, and adore ? 
How shall guilty and self-condemned crea- 
tures appear before Him, in whose sight 
the heavens are not clean, and who 
chargeth his angels with folly ? This is 
the sting of death. It is guilt that 
sharpens the spear of the king of terrors. 
But even in this view we have victory 
over death, through Jesus Christ our 
Lord. By his death upon the cross, an 
atonement was made for the sins of men. 
The wrath of God was averted from the 
world. A great plan of reconciliation is 
now unfolded in the gospel. Under the 
banner of the cross, pardon is proclaimed 
to returning penitents. They who accept 
the offers of mercy, and who fly for refuge 
to the hope set before them, are taken into 
favor ; their sins are forgiven, and their 



44 



SERMON VII. 



names are written in the book of life. 
Over them death has no power. The king 
of terrors is transformed into an angel of 
peace, to waft them to their native country, 
where they long to be. 

This, 0 Christian ! the death of thy 
Redeemer, is-thy strong consolation ; thy 
effectual remedy against the fear of death. 
What evil can come nigh to him for whom 
Jesus died? Does the law which thou 
hast broken, denounce vengeance against 
thee 1 Behold that law fulfilled in the 
meritorious life of thy Redeemer. Does 
the sentence of wrath pronounced against 
the posterity of Adam sound in thine ears? 
Behold that sentence blotted out, that 
handwriting, as the apostle calls it, can- 
celled, nailed to thy Saviour's cross, and 
left there as a trophy of his victory. Art 
thou afraid that the cry of thy offences 
may rise to heaven, and reach the ears of 
justice ? There is no place for it there ; 
in room of it ascends the voice of that 
blood which speaketh better things than 
the blood of Abel. Does the enemy of 
mankind accuse thee at the judgment-seat ? 
He is put to silence by thy Advocate and 
Intercessor at the right hand of thy 
Father. Does death appear to thee in a 
form of terror, and hold out his sting to 
alarm thy mind ? His terror is removed, 
and his sting was pulled out by that hand, 
which, on mount Calvary, was fixed to the 
accursed tree. Art thou afraid that the 
arrows of divine wrath which smite the 
guilty, may be aimed at thy head ? Be- 
fore they can touch thee, they must pierce 
that body, which, in the symbols of divine 
institution, was this day held forth cruci- 
fied among you, and which at the right 
hand of the Majesty in the heavens, is 
for ever presented in behalf of the redeem- 
ed. Well then may ye join in the trium- 
phant song of the apostle, " 0 death ! 
where is thy sting 1 0 grave ! where is 
thy victory ? " 

In the third place, Jesus Christ gives 
us victory over death, by yielding us con- 
solation and relief under the fears that 
arise in the mind upon the awful transi- 
tion from this world to the next. 

Who ever left the precincts of mortality 
without casting a wishful look on what he 
left behind, and a trembling eye on the 
scene that is before him ? Being formed 



by our Creator for enjoyments even in 
this life, we are endowed with a sensibility 
to the objects around us. We have af- 
fections, and we delight to indulge them : 
we have hearts, and we want to bestow 
them. Bad as the world is, we find in it 
objects of affection and attachment. Even 
in this waste and howling wilderness, 
there are spots of verdure and of beauty, 
of power to charm the mind and make us 
cry out, "It is good for us to be here." 
When, after the observation and experience 
of years, we have found out the objects 
of the soul, and met with minds congenial 
to our own, what pangs must it give to the 
heart, to think of parting for ever ? We 
even contract an attachment to inanimate 
objects. The tree under whose shadow 
we have often sat ; the fields where we 
have frequently strayed ; the hill, the 
scene of contemplation, or the haunt of 
friendship, become objects of passion to 
the mind, and upon our leaving them, 
excite a temporary sorrow and regret. If 
these things can affect us with uneasiness, 
how great must be the affliction, when 
stretched on that bed from which we shall 
rise no more, and looking about for the 
last time on the sad circle of our weeping 
friends ! How great must be the affliction, 
to dissolve at once all the attachments of 
life ; to bid an eternal adieu to the friends 
whom we long have loved, and to part for 
ever with all that is dear below the sun ! 
But let not the Christian be disconsolate. 
He parts with the objects of his affection, 
to meet them again ; to meet them in a 
better world, where change never enters, 
and from whose blissful mansions sorrow 
flies away. At the resurrection of the 
just ; in the great assembly of the sons 
of God, when all the family of heaven 
are gathered together, not one person shall 
be missing that was worthy of thy affec- 
tion or esteem. And if among imperfect 
creatures, and in a troubled world, the 
kind, the tender, and the generous affec- 
tions have such power to charm the heart, 
that even the tears which they occasion 
delight us, what joy unspeakable and 
glorious will they produce, when they exist 
in perfect minds, and are improved by the 
purity of the heavens ! 

Christianity also gives us consolation 
in the transition from this world to the 



ON THE DOCTRINE OF A PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE. 



45 



next. Every change in life awakens 
anxiety ; whatever is unknown, is the ob- 
ject of fear; no wonder then that it is 
awful and alarming to nature, to think of 
that time when the hour of our departure 
is at hand ; when this animal frame shall 
be dissolved, and the mysterious bond be- 
tween soul and body shall be broken. 
Even the visible effects of mortality are 
not without terror; to have no more a 
name among the living ; to pass into the 
dominions of the dead ; to have the worm 
for a companion, and a sister, are events 
at which nature shudders and starts back. 
But more awful still is the invisible scene, 
when the curtain between both worlds 
shall be drawn back, and the soul naked 
and disembodied appear in the presence 
of its Creator. Even under these thoughts, 
the comforts of Christianity may delight 
thy soul. Jesus, thy Saviour, has the 
keys of death; the abodes of the dead 
are part of his kingdom. He lay in the 
grave, and hallowed it for the repose of 
the just. Before our Lord ascended up 
on high, he said to his disciples, " I go to 
my Father and to your Father, to my God 
and to your God ; " and when the time 
of your departure is at hand, you go to 
your Father and his Father, to your God 
and his God. 

Enlightened by these discoveries, trust- 
ing to the merits of his Redeemer, and* 
animated with the hope which is set be- 
fore him, the Christian will depart with 
tranquillity and joy. To him the bed of 
death will not be a scene of terror, nor 
the last hour an hour of despair. There 
is a majesty in the death of the Christian. 
He partakes of the spirit of that world 
to which he is advancing, and he meets 
his latter end with a face that looks to 
the heavens. 



SERMON VIII. 

ON THE DOCTRINE OF A PARTICULAR 
PROVIDENCE. 

Psalm xcvii. 1. — "The Lord reigneth, let the 
earth rejoice." 

To thinking men, the universe presents a 
scene of wonders. They find themselves 
brought into the world, they know not 



how. If they look around them, they be- 
hold the earth clothed with an infinite 
variety of herbs and fruits, subservient 
to their use, or administering to their de- 
light. If they look above them, they be- 
hold the host of heaven walking in bright- 
ness and in beauty ; the sun ruling the 
day; the moon and the stars governing 
the night. If they attend to the course 
of nature, they behold with wonder the 
various revolutions of the year ; the grad- 
ual return of the seasons, and the constant 
vicissitude of day and of night. Whilst 
thus they are employed, they behold in 
the heavens the glory of their Creator ; 
they discover in the firmament the handi- 
work of Omnipotence, and they hear the 
voice that nature sends out to the ends 
of the earth, that all things are the work- 
manship of a supreme and intelligent 
Cause. As from these events they con- 
clude the Almighty to be the Maker of 
the world ; from the same events, they 
conclude that he is the Governor of the 
world which he hath made, and that Divine 
power is as requisite to preserve the order 
and harmony of the world now, as it was 
necessary to establish it at the first. But 
when experience unfolded to them the 
powers of natural bodies ; when they saw 
machines contrived by human skill, ex- 
hibiting motions, and producing effects, 
similar to those which they observed in 
nature, by the impulse of matter upon 
matter ; and when they saw these machines 
regularly exhibiting such motions, regu- 
larly producing such effects, although the 
head that contrived, and the hand that 
put them together, were removed from 
them ; this raised an opinion, in some 
speculative minds, th'at the world resembled 
such machines ; and that, as a clock will 
show the hour of the day, in virtue of its 
original frame and constitution, without 
any further interposition of the artificer 
that framed it, so nature, in virtue of its 
original frame and constitution, may and 
does produce every effect which we see 
around us, without any further interposi- 
tion of its Divine Author. 

This opinion is frequently mentioned 
and confuted in the Sacred Scriptures. 
Those men are condemned whose belief 
it was, that, in the course of human affairs, 
the Lord would not do good, neither would 



46 



SERMON VIII. 



lie do evil. Although I seldom choose 
to carry you through the barren and un- 
pleasant fields of controversy, yet, as this 
question affects so deeply our religious 
comfort in this state, and our hopes of 
happiness in a future world, I shall con- 
sider it at large, and shall, in the first 
place, Show you the absurdity of that 
opinion which would exclude God from 
the government of the world. Secondly, 
Establish and confirm the doctrine of a 
particular Providence. Thirdly, Show 
you the grounds of joy arising to the 
world from such a Providence. 

In the first place, I am to show the ab- 
surdity of that opinion which would exclude 
God from the government of the world. 

It has been thought by some, " That 
the Creator of the universe formed the 
constitution of nature in such a manner 
at the beginning, as to stand in need of no 
succeeding change; that he established 
certain laws in the material and in the 
moral world, which uniformly and invaria- 
bly take place, producing all the effects 
which he ever intended they should pro- 
duce ; as when an artist frames a machine 
for certain purposes, and for a limited du- 
ration, the effects which result from it 
spring not from the immediate direction 
and influence of the artist, but from the 
original frame and composition of the 
machine. Such is the opinion of those 
who hold what they call a general Prov- 
idence. We, on the other hand, maintain, 
that '• Almighty God, upon special occa- 
sions, directs and overrules the course of 
events, both in the natural and moral 
world, by an immediate influence, to answer 
the great designs of his universal govern- 
ment." 

With respect to a general Providence, 
this mechanical system, this engine, by 
which some persons would throw out the 
superintending Providence of Heaven, is 
a creature of the brain. It is a mere 
presumption. It is by its own nature in- 
capable of proof. From whence should 
the evidence arise ? Art thou who exclu- 
dest God from his works, intrusted with 
the secrets of heaven ? Wert thou pre- 
sent when God laid the foundations of the 
world ? Wert thou privy to his counsels ? 
Or do you now see, or can you show, that 
original cause, or those original causes, es- 



tablished by God at the creation from 
which all the various effects in nature 
may be deduced, and into which they 
may mechanically be resolved ? Can you 
show the immediate cause of lightning 
or of rain, or of any other phenomenon in 
nature, and from the immediate cause 
ascend to the second, from the second to 
the third, and so upward till you come to 
the last link of the chain, which hangs 
immediately upon the throne of God ? 
This can be done in the works of art. An 
artist will show you the dependence of all 
the movements in a machine upon one an- 
other. And when you are as well acquaint- 
ed with the faerie of the world, as you may 
be with the structure of a machine, you 
may then speak of your chain of mechan- 
ical causes and effects. But, alas ! the 
most improved philosophy can do no more 
but skim the -surface of things ; and in its 
progress from the immediate visible to the 
first invisible cause, at one or two removes, 
it finds its period, beyond which it cannot go. 

Further, This mechanical system of 
governing the world without the immedi- 
ate interposition of the Deity, undermines 
the foundation of all religious worship. 
When we pray for our daily bread, what 
do we ask but the blessing of God upon 
the earth, to yield her fruits in due season ? 
When we ask the blessing of God upon 
our meals, what do we less than recognise 
his supreme power, and implore him to 
make the gifts of his Providence the means 
of our sustenance and refreshment 1 This 
disclaims every notion of natural causes 
and effects that shuts out God ; it supposes 
his concurrence and co-operation directing 
all the operations of nature.- Again, when 
we pray for the graces and virtues of the 
spiritual life, what do we ask but the 
Divine aid to strengthen the good dispo- 
sitions he hath already given us, and so to 
direct and order the course of events, that 
we may be kept from temptation, or not be 
overcome when we are tempted ? But this 
supposes the superintendence of God over 
us ; supposes his interposition in hu- 
man affairs ; supposes his providence 
continually exerted in administering to the 
wants of his creatures, according as their 
circumstances require. If this account be 
just, then our worship is a reasonable ser- 
vice. But if these are vain words, then 



ON THE DOCTRINE OF A PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE. 



47 



our worship also is vain. Then every one 
that goes into his closet to pray, goes only 
to act foolishly ; then all the good and the 
pious, every where over the face of the 
whole earth, that are calling upon the 
Most High God, are as uselessly, as ab- 
surdly employed, as if they were falling 
down before a dumb idol, and paying 
their devotions to images of wood or stone. 

Further still, this mechanical system, in 
a great measure, annihilates the moral per- 
fections of the Divine nature. It places the 
Almighty in a state of indolence, which is 
inconsistent with every idea of perfection ; 
it makes him an idle and unconcerned 
spectator of his own works, and represents 
him as beholding virtue and vice, the sin- 
ner and the saint, with an equal eye. 
There are many scenes in human life, at 
which, if we were present, it would be 
criminal for us not to take a part. Did we 
see the hands of the violent raised to shed 
innocent blood, and not rush to prevent 
the horrid deed ; did we know the retreats 
of the robber and murderer, and not en- 
deavor to bring them to public justice, we 
would be reckoned in part guilty of their 
crimes, as, by a criminal omission, we 
should endanger the peace of the public, 
and the interests of society. If we, being 
evil, would abhor such a character, shall 
we impute it, can we impute it, to Him 
who is infinite in goodness, and who is 
possessed of absolute perfection ? To 
what purpose is God every where present, 
if he is not every where employed ? Where- 
to serves infinite power, if it must be for 
ever dormant % Whereto serves infinite wis- 
dom, if it is never to be exercised % To 
what purpose are the Divine goodness, 
and the Divine justice, if we only hear of 
their names % Are all the Attributes of 
the Godhead in vain ? How false, how 
absurd, how blasphemous, is an opinion 
that would destroy every Divine perfection ! 

I have thus shown you the absurdity of 
that system which would exclude God from 
the government of the universe ; and I am 
now, in the second place, to establish and 
confirm the doctrine of a particular Provi- 
dence. This doctrine is founded both 
upon reason and the Scriptures. 

Reason and true philosophy never 
attempt to separate God from his works. 
We must own him in the sky, to hold the 



planets in their respective orbits ; we must 
own him in the earth, and in the seas, to 
keep them within their proper bounds, and 
we must own him through the whole system 
of nature, to support and maintain that 
gravitating force which gives consistency 
and stability to all material things. Rea- 
son tells us, that it is not probable that the 
Creator of the universe would forsake that 
world which he hath made ; that it is not 
probable that a Being possessed of infinite 
perfection can be an idle and unconcerned 
spectator of his own works. 

But our chief evidence for this doctrine 
rests upon revelation. Mankind obtained 
early notices of the Divine superinten- 
dence, by peculiar interpositions. In the 
history of the Old Testament, we have an 
account of the loss of Paradise by sin ; of 
the banishment of Cain for the murder of 
his brother; of the translation of Enoch, 
as the reward of his righteousness ; of the . 
wickedness of the old world, and its de- 
struction by the deluge, Noah and his fa- 
mily only excepted, who, by the eminence 
of his piety, found grace in the sight of 
God to become the father of the new world. 
When this new world revolted from God, 
and ran into idolatry, we see Abraham 
called out to be the head of a mighty na- 
tion, which grew up and flourished, by a 
series of the most wonderful providences ; 
governed by laws of God's own appoint- 
ment; with promises of protection and 
blessing, so long as they should be obe- 
dient, and threatenings of punishment and 
destruction, if they fell off to serve other 
gods ; which in the event were punctually 
verified. This was a visible and standing 
evidence of a governing Providence. The 
doctrine was thus established upon a higher 
authority than reason, and upon better 
evidence than the light of nature. God 
revealed himself to men as the Governor 
of the world, the avenger of the wicked, 
and the protector of the good. But, al- 
though, in administering the affairs of the 
universe, the object of Providence should 
be to depress the bad and to favor the 
good ; yet an exact retribution of rewards 
and punishments was none of the ends of 
his administration in this scene of things. 
This would have defeated the plan of his N - 
Providence, and superseded the necessity 
of a day of judgment. Nevertheless, he 



48 



SERMON VIIL 



would frequently interpose to punish sig- 
nal wickedness, or reward illustrious vir- 
tue. Thus, in the early ages of the world, 
he did often miraculously interpose, to let 
the nations understand that he took notice 
of their righteous or unrighteous deeds : 
that he had power to vindicate the honor 
of his laws 5 and to make examples when- 
ever it was requisite, for the correction 
and reformation of men. Miraculous in- 
terpositions were not intended to be per- 
manent or perpetual ; yet the providence 
of God was not to cease. Accordingly, 
he took care to inform us, that what in the 
first ages he had done visibly and by mi- 
racles, he would do in the latter ages by 
the invisible direction of natural causes. 
The Scriptures are so full of this notion, 
that it would be endless to be particular. 
You may read the 28th chapter of Deute- 
ronomy, where you will see all the powers 
of nature summoned as instruments in the 
hand of the Almighty, to execute the pur- 
poses of his will ; where you behold them 
commissioned to favor the good with na- 
tional prosperity, with domestic comforts, 
with safet}- from their enemies, with fruit- 
ful seasons, with a numerous offspring, and 
with an abundance of all blessings ; com- 
missioned to punish the wicked with na- 
tional distress, with indigence, with slavery, 
with destructions, and molestations of 
every kind, by war, by famine, and by all 
sorts of diseases. From all which, the 
plain inference is this, That the most 
common and most familiar events, are un- 
der the direction of God, and by him are 
used as instruments, either for the hurt or 
for the good of men. 

How this particular Providence oper- 
ates, may, in some degree, be conceived by 
us. Man, in his limited sphere, can take 
some direction of natural causes. You 
can direct the element of fire either to 
warm or to consume ; the elements of air 
and water to cherish and to annoy. Does 
not that power, then, in a more illustrious 
manner, belong to God ? Is it not as easy 
for Him, think you, to give laws to the 
tempest, where to spend its force ; to di- 
rect the meteor flying in the air, where to 
fall, and whom to consume ? Are the ele- 
mental and subterraneous fires bound up? 
He can let them loose. Are they broken 
loose ? He can collect them as in the hollow 



of his hand. And all this he performs, with- 
out unhinging the general system, and 
without any visible tokens to us, that he 
is at all concerned, though in truth he is 
the effective agent. In like manner, we 
may comprehend, in some measure, how 
God may direct, not only the motions of 
the inanimate and passive part of the crea- 
tion, but also the determinations of free 
agents, to answer the purposes of his pro- 
vidence. The hearts of men are in the 
hand of the Lord, as much as the rivers 
of water. This does not in the least de- 
stroy the freedom of human actions. Every 
one knows that the acts of free agents are 
determined by circumstances ; and these 
circumstances are always in the hand of 
God. The dispositions and resolutions of 
men are apt to vary, according to the dif- 
ferent turn or flow of their spirits, or their 
different situations in life, as to health 
or sickness, strength or weakness, joy or 
sorrow ; and by the direction of these, God 
may raise up enemies, or create friends, 
stir up war, or make peace. Take, as an 
instance, the history of Hainan. That 
wicked man had long meditated the de- 
struction of Mordecai the Jew, and rather 
than not satiate his vengeance upon him, 
would involve the whole Jewish nation in 
utter destruction. He at last obtained a 
decree, sentencing this whole people to 
the sword ; and the day was fixed. In this 
crisis of their fate, how was the chosen 
nation to be delivered ? "VYas God visibly 
and miraculously to interpose in favor of 
his own people ? This he could have 
done ; but he chose rather to act accord- 
ing to the ordinary train of second causes. 
He who giveth sleep to his beloved, with- 
held it from Ahasuerus, the monarch of 
Persia. In order to pass the night, he 
called for the records of his reign. There 
he found it written, that Mordecai had de- 
tected a conspiracy formed against the 
life of the king, and that he had never 
been rewarded for it. By this single cir- 
cumstance, a sudden reverse took place. 
Mordecai was advanced to honor and re- 
wards ; the villany of Haman was detect- 
ed ; the decree fatal to the Jews was re- 
voked ; and the nation of the Jews was 
saved from instant destruction. In like 
manner,, in the history of Joseph, and oth- 
er histories of the Old Testament, you see 



ON THE DOCTRINE OF A PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE. 



49 



the most familiar events made instruments 
in the hand of God to effect the purposes 
of his will. 

There is then a particular Providence. 
The arm of the Almighty, reaching from 
heaven to earth, is continually employed. 
All things are full of GJ-od. In the regions 
of the air ; in the bowels of the earth ; and 
in the chambers of the sea, his power is 
felt. Every event in life is under his di- 
rection and control. Nothing is fortuitous 
or accidental. Let me caution you, how- 
ever, against abusing this doctrine, by 
judging of the characters of persons from 
their outward circumstances. It is to be 
remembered, that the present life is not a 
state of recompense, but a state of trial ; 
consequently, men are not dealt with in 
outward dispensations according to their 
true character. The goods of Nature and 
Providence are distributed indiscriminately 
among mankind. The sun shines, the rain 
falls, upon the just and the unjust. It is 
a dangerous error, therefore, to judge of 
moral character from external condition in 
life. This was the error of J ob's friends ; 
this the foundation of the censures they 
cast against this excellent person, and for 
which they were reproved. The intention 
of the book of Job is, to show the false- 
ness of that supposition, by representing 
the incomprehensible Majesty of Grod, 
and the unsearchable nature of his works. 
Many instances in Scripture confirm the 
truth of this observation. Who, that saw 
David reduced to straits, wandering for 
refuge in the rocks and dens of the wilder- 
ness, would have believed him to be the 
prince whom God had chosen ? Who, 
that beheld Nebuchadnezzar walking in 
his palace, surrounded with all the pomp 
and splendor of the east, would have be- 
lieved him to be the object of Divine dis- 
pleasure, and that the decree was gone 
out, that he was to be driven among the 
beasts ? Who, that beheld our Lord in 
the form of a servant, would have believed 
that he was the Master of Nature ? 

I am, lastly ', To deduce the practical 
consequences from the doctrine, by show- 
ing you the grounds of joy and consolation 
that it gives to the world. 

In the first place, The doctrine of a 
superintending Providence yields us joy 
and consolation with respect to our lot in 
4 



life. Many persons are accustomed to 
complain concerning their situation and 
circumstances in the world. Their desires 
and their fortune do not correspond ; they 
think that they are misplaced by Provi- 
dence, and look upon the lot of their 
neighbors as more eligible than their own. 
It is impossible, in the present system of 
things, that all men can be alike. Nature, 
through all her works, delights in variety. 
Though every flower is beautiful, and 
every star is glorious ; yet one flower ex- 
celleth another in beauty, and one star 
exceedeth another in glory. There are 
also diversities in human life, and a beauti- 
ful subordination prevails amongst man- 
kind. The Father of Spirits hath com- 
municated himself to men in different 
degrees. But although all men cannot be 
alike ; yet all men may enjoy a great 
measure of happiness. Every station in 
life possesses its comforts and advantages. 
In those comparisons you make of your 
life with that of others, when you would 
wish to exchange places with some of your 
more fortunate neighbors, do you not al- 
ways find something in which you have the 
superiority ? Is there not some talent of 
the mind, some quality of the heart, some- 
thing where you think your strength lies, 
some one source of enjoyment, which you 
would wish still to retain ? Is not this the 
testimony of nature, that you are happier 
in that path of life, than you would be in 
another ? Wherever you are placed by 
Providence, the station appointed is the 
post of honor. A general, in the day of 
battle, marshals his army according as he- 
sees proper, and distributes the posts of 
danger and importance, according to the 
courage and conduct of his soldiers. Your 
Commander knows your abilities better 
than you do yourselves ; he prescribed to 
you the duty you have to execute ; and he 
marked out the path in which you are to 
seek for honor and immortality. It is 
from your discharge of these offices assign- 
ed to you, that the happiness of your life, 
and the perfection of your character, are 
to arise. It is not from the sphere they 
hold in life, but from the lustre they cast 
around them in that sphere, that men rank- 
in the Divine estimation, and figure in the 
annals of eternity. If, with five talents?, 
you gain five more, or if, even with one: 



50 



SERMON VIII. 



talent, you gain another, you are as praise- 
worthy as he who, with ten talents, gaineth 
other ten talents. 

Further, As in a kingdom, every high- 
way leads to the capital ; as in a circle, 
every line terminates in the centre ; so, 
in the wide circle of nature, every line 
terminates in heaven ; and every path in 
life conducts alike to the great city of God. 
The present state is intimately connected 
with the future ; the life which we now 
lead, is an education for the life which is 
to come. If your mind were enlarged to 
comprehend all the connections and de- 
pendencies of things ; if your eyes were 
opened to take in the whole of your im- 
mortal existence, you would then see and 
acknowledge, that Providence had assign- 
ed to you the very station you would have 
wished to fill ; the very part you would 
have chosen to act. Trusting, therefore, 
in that God who presides over the uni- 
verse ; assured of that wisdom and good- 
ness which direct the whole train of the 
Divine administrations, each of us may 
express our joy in the words of the Psal- 
mist : " The lines have fallen to me in 
pleasant places : I have a goodly heritage : 
the Lord is the portion of mine inherit- 
ance; the Lord will command the blessing, 
even life for evermore." 

In the second place, This doctrine will 
yield us consolation during the afflictions 
which we meet with in life. If we believed 
that the universe was a state of anarchy, 
confusion and uproar, that the Governor 
of the world was a cruel and malignant 
being, who made sport of human misery, 
and took pleasure in punishing his un- 
happy creatures, such a thought would 
overwhelm the mind ; it would turn the 
gloom of adversity into the shadow of 
death, and mingle poison in the cup of 
bitterness which we are doomed to drink. 
But the Scriptures inform us, that the 
dark dispensations of Providence are part 
of that plan which has the good of the 
world for its object ; take their rise from 
the goodness of our Father in heaven ; are 
intended for the reformation and final 
blessedness of his children. The same 
word of life which says, " Blessed is the 
man whom thou choosest and makest ap- 
proach unto thee," says also, " Blessed is 
the man whom thou chasteneth." So far 



from being marks of the Divine wrath, 
the afflictions of life are tokens of the 
Divine love. While heedless and unthink- 
ing we go astray, God interests himself in 
our favor, and sends these his messengers 
to bring us to himself. It is but a nar- 
row and imperfect view we take of afflic- 
tions, when we consider them only as trials. 
They are not so much intended for the 
trial as for the. cultivation of virtue. They 
are sent by Providence, to mortify your 
unruly passions; to wean you from the 
world ; to prepare you for heaven. They 
are sent for the improvement of your na- 
ture ; for the increase of your graces, and 
for the superabounding of your joy to all 
eternity. When under the afflicting hand 
of Heaven therefore, you are standing a 
candidate for immortality; you are singled 
out by Providence to exert the part of a 
christian, and you are called forth to 
exhibit to the world a pattern of the suf- 
fering virtues. He is but a novice in the 
school of Christ, who has not learned to 
suffer. The best affections of the heart, 
the noblest graces of the soul, the highest 
virtues of life, the offering that is most 
acceptable to Heaven, arise from the pro- 
per improvement of adversity. The blessed 
above, whom the Prophet saw arrayed in 
white before the throne, came out of great 
tribulation ; the blessed above, whom he 
heard singing the song of Moses and the 
Lamb, learned the first notes of it on the 
bed of sorrow. 

Such is the intention of afflictions which 
Providence sends, and even under these 
afflictions God is with his people. You 
are ever under the hand of a merciful 
Creator, who doth not afflict willingly, nor 
grieve the children of men. He knoweth 
your frame ; he remembereth that you are 
but dust ; he will afflict you no further 
than you are able to bear ; and as your 
days are, he hath promised that your 
strength shall be. Nay, in all your afflic- 
tions he is present with you, and the hand 
that bruised you binds up the wound. Let 
not then your hearts be troubled. Bear 
up under the pressure of wo. Rejoice be- 
cause the Lord reigneth, and exult in the 
language of the Prophet ; " Although the 
fig-tree should not blossom, nor fruit be 
found in the vine ; though the labor of 
the olive should fail, and the field should 



ON CHARITY. 



51 



yield no meat ; though the flocks should 
be cut off from the fold, and there shall be 
no herd in the stall, yet will I rejoice in 
the Lord, I will joy in the God of my sal- 
vation." 

Thirdly, With respect to appearances 
of moral evil and disorder, it is afflicting 
to the mind to behold disorder in the uni- 
verse of God : bad men often exalted, 
while the good man's lot is bitterness and 
pain ; virtue depressed, and vice trium- 
phant. He who caused light to arise out of 
darkness, and order and beauty to spring 
from chaos and confusion, can correct these 
irregularities. He not only restrains, and 
says, " Hitherto, and no further." He 
also overrules and makes the wrath of men 
to praise him. Hear how he gives com- 
mission, and sends Sennacherib against 
Israel, as a general sends a weapon of 
war. " 0 Assyrian, the rod of mine anger, 
I will send him against an hypocritical 
nation, and against the people of my wrath, 
to tread them down like the mire of the 
streets. Howbeit he meaneth not so, 
neither doth his heart think so ; " that is, 
neither doth his heart think that he is a 
mere instrument in the hand of God. 
David was raised to the throne of Israel 
by those steps which his foes devised 
against him. The enemy of mankind, 
seducing our first parents, was the means 
of their being elevated to a greater degree 
of happiness and glory. 

Lastly, With respect to our departure 
frqni this^world, and entering upon a new 
state of being, we know that the time is 
appointed, when dust shall return unto dust, 
and the spirit unto God who gave it. But 
it is awful, it is alarming to nature, to call 
up the hour when the union between soul 
and body shall be dissolved; ^ our 
connection with all that we held dear in 
life shall be broken off ; when we shall 
enter upon a new state of existence, and 
become inhabitants of the world unknown. 
But even then the providence of God will 
give us comfort. The Lord reigneth king 
for ever and ever. The dominions of the 
dead are a part of his kingdom ; time and 
eternity, the world that now is, and the 
world that is to come, confess him for 
their Lord. When thou goest through 
the dark valley, be will go with thee : in 
the hour of dissolving nature, he will sup- 



port thy spirit. Thou canst not go but 
where God is. Around thee is infinite 
love, and underneath thee are the ever- 
lasting arms. 



SERMON IX. 

ON CHARITY. ' 

Isaiah lviii. 7. — "Deal thy bread to the hungry ; 
— hide not thyself from thine own flesh." 

Why there are so many evils in the world, 
is a question that has been agitated ever 
since men felt them. As God is possessed 
of all perfections, he could have created 
the universe without evil. To him, re- 
volving the plan of his creation, every 
benevolent system presented itself; how 
came it then to pass, that a Being, neither 
controlled in power, nor limited in wisdom, 
nor deficient in goodness, should create a 
world in which many evils are to be found, 
and much suffering to be endured? It 
becomes not us, with too presumptuous a 
curiosity, to assign the causes of the Di- 
vine conduct, or with too daring a hand, 
to draw aside the veil which covers the 
councils of the Almighty. But from this 
state of things, we see many good effects 
arise. That industry which keeps the 
world in motion ; that society, which, by 
mutual wants, cements mankind together; 
and that charity, which is the bond of 
perfection, would neither have a place nor 
a name, but for the evils of human life. 
Thus the enjoyments of life are grafted 
upon its wants ; from natural evil arises 
moral good, and the sufferings of some 
contribute to the happiness of all. Such 
being the state of human affairs, charity, 
or that disposition which leads us to sup- 
ply the wants and alleviate the sufferings 
of unhappy men, as well as bear with their 
infirmities, must be a duty of capital im- 
portance. Accordingly it is enjoined in 
our holy religion, as being the chief of the 
virtues. There is no duty commanded in 
Scripture, on which so much stress is laid, 
as on the duty of charity. It is assign- 
ed as the test and criterion by which we 
are to distinguish the disciples of Jesus, 
and it will be selected at the great day, as 



52 



SERMON IX. 



being that part of the character which is 
most decisive of the life, and according to 
which the last sentence is to turn. Chari- 
ty, in its most comprehensive sense, signi- 
fies that disposition of mind, which, from 
a regard and gratitude to God, leads to all 
the good in our power to man. Thus, it 
takes in a large circle, extending to all the 
virtues of the social, and many graces of 
the divine life. But as this would lead 
us into a wide field, all that I intend at 
present is, to consider that branch of 
charity which is called Almsgiving ; and, 
in treating upon it, shall, in the first place, 
Show you how alms ought to be bestowed ; 
and, secondly. Give exhortations to the 
practice of this duty. 

The first thing proposed was, To show 
you what is the most proper method of 
bestowing charity. This inquiry is the more 
necessary, as, in the neighborhood of great 
cities, we are always surrounded by the 
needy and importunate, and it is often dif- 
ficult to distinguish those who are proper 
objects of charity, from those who are not. 

The best method of bestowing charity 
upon the healthy and the strong, is to give 
them employment : Almighty God created 
us all for industry and action. He never 
intended that any man upon the face of 
the earth should be idle. Accordingly, he 
hath placed us in a state which abounds 
with incentives to industry, and in which 
we must be active, in order to live. One 
half of the vices of men take their origin 
from idleness. He who has nothing to do, 
is an easy prey to the tempter. Men 
must have occupation of one kind cr other. 
If they are not employed in useful and 
beneficial labors, they will engage in those 
which are pernicious and criminal. To 
support the indolent, therefore, to keep 
those idle who are able to work, is acting 
contrary to the intention of God, is doing 
an injury to society, which claims a right 
to the services of all its members, is de- 
frauding real objects of charity of that 
which is their proper due, and is foster- 
ing a race of sluggards, to prey upon the 
vitals of a state. But he is a valuable 
member of society, and merits well of all 
mankind, who by devising means of em- 
ployment for the industrious, delivers the 
public from a useless incumbrance, and 
makes those who would otherwise be the 



! pests of society, useful subjects of the 
commonwealth. If it be merit, and no 
small merit it is, to improve the face of a 
country ; to turn the desert into a fruitful 
field, and make the barren wastes break 
forth into singing ; it is much more meri- 
torious to cultivate the deserts in the 
moral world ; to render those who might 
be otherwise pernicious members of socie- 
ty, happy in themselves, and beneficial to 
the state ; to convert the talent that was 
wrapt up in a napkin into a public use ; 
and by opening a new source of industry, 
make life and health to circulate through 
the whole political body. Such a person 
is a true patriot, and does more good to 
mankind, than all the heroes and man-de- 
stroyers, who fill the annals of history. 
The fame of the one is founded upon the 
numbers that he has slain ; the glory of 
the other arises from the numbers that he 
preserves and makes happy. 

Another act of charity, of equal impor- 
tance, is to supply the wants of the really 
indigent and necessitous. If the indus- 
trious, with all their efforts, are not able 
to earn a competent livelihood ; if the prod- 
uce of their labor be not proportionable to 
the demands of a numerous family ; then 
they are proper objects of your charity. 
Nor can there be conceived a more pitia- 
ble case, than that of those whose daily 
labor, after the utmost they can do, will 
not procure daily bread for themselves 
and their household. To consider a pa- 
rent who has toiled the live-long day (in 
hardship, who yet at night, instead of 
finding rest, shall find a pain more insup- 
portable than all his fatigues abroad ; the 
cravings of a numerous and helpless fami- 
ly, which he cannot satisfy; this is suflicient 
to give the most lively touches of compas- 
sion to every heart that is not past feeling. 
Nor can there be an exercise of charity 
better judged, than administering to the 
wants of those who are at the same time 
industrious and indigent. 

Another class of men that demand our 
charity, is the aged and feeble, who, after 
a life of hard labor, after being worn out 
with the cares and business of life, are 
grown unfit for further business, and who 
add poverty to the other miseries of old 
age. What can be more worthy of us, 
than thus to contribute to their happiness, 



ON CHARITY. 



53 



who have been once useful, and are still 
willing to be so ; to allow them not to feel 
the want of those enjoyments, which they 
are not now able to procure ; to be a staff 
to their declining days ; to smooth the 
furrows in the faded cheek, and to make 
the winter of old age wear the aspect of 
spring ? 

Children also bereft of their parents, 
orphans cast upon the care of Providence, 
are signal objects of compassion. To act 
the part of a father to those upon whose 
helpless years no parent of their own ever 
smiled ; to rear up the plant that was left 
alone to perish in the storm ; to fence the 
tender bloom against the early blasts 
of vice ; to watch and superintend its 
growth, till it nourishes and brings forth 
fruit : this is a noble and beneficial em- 
ployment, well adapted to a generous 
mind. What can be more delightful than 
thus to train up the young to happiness 
and virtue ; to conduct them with a safe 
but gentle hand, through the dangerous 
stages of infancy and youth ; to give them, 
at an age when their minds are most sus- 
ceptible of good impressions, early notices 
of religion, and render them useful mem- 
bers of society, who, if turned adrift, and 
left defenceless, would, without the extra- 
ordinary grace of Grod, become a burden 
and a nuisance to the world ? 

But there is a class of the unfortunate 
not yet mentioned, who are the greatest 
objects of all; those who, after having 
been accustomed to ease and plenty, are, 
by some unavoidable reverse of fortune, 
by no fault or folly of theirs, condemned 
to bear, what they are least able to bear, 
the galling load of poverty ; who, after 
having been perhaps fathers to the father- 
less, in the day of their prosperity, are now 
become the objects of that charity which 
they were wont so liberally to dispense. 
These persons plead the more strongly for 
our relief, because they are the least able 
to reveal their misery, and make their 
wants known. Let these, therefore, in a 
peculiar manner partake the bounty of the 
liberal and open hand. Let your good- 
ness descend to them in secret, and, like 
the providence of Heaven, conceal the 
hand which sends them relief, that their 
blushes may be spared while their wants 
are supplied. 



Concerning one class of the indigent, 
vagrants and common beggars, I have 
hitherto said nothing. 

About these, your own observation and 
experience will enable you to judge. 
Some of them are real and deserving ob- 
jects of your compassion. Of others, the 
greatest want is the want of industry and 
virtue. 

The second thing proposed, was, To 
give exhortations to the practice of this 
duty. This duty is so agreeable to the 
common notions of mankind, that every 
one condemns the mean and sordid spirit 
of that wretch whom Grod has blessed with 
abundance, and consequently with the 
power of blessing others, and who is yet 
relentless to the cries of the poor and 
miserable. We look with contempt and 
abhorrence upon a man who is ever amass- 
ing riches, and never bestowing them ; as 
greedy as the sea, and yet as barren as 
the shore. Numbers, it is true, think they 
have done enough in declaiming against 
the practice of such persons; for upon the 
great and the opulent they think the 
whole burden of this duty ought to rest; 
but for themselves., being somewhat of a 
lower class, they desire to be excused. 
Their circumstances, they say, are but 
just easy, to answer the demands of their 
family, and therefore they plead inability, 
and expect to be exempted from the per- 
formance of this duty. Before this ex- 
cuse will be of any avail, it behooves them 
to consider whether they do not indulge 
themselves in expenses unsuitable to their 
rank and condition. Imaginary wants are 
boundless, and charity will never begin, 
if it be postponed till these have an end. 
Every man, whether rich or poor, is con- 
cerned in this duty, in proportion to his 
circumstances : and he that has little is as 
strictly bound to give something out of 
that little, as he that hath more is obliged 
to give more. What advantage was it to 
the poor widow, that she, by giving her 
one mite into the treasury, could exercise 
a nobler charity than all the rich had 
done ! The smallest gift may be the 
greatest bounty. 

The practice of this duty, therefore, is 
incumbent upon all. To the perform- 
ance of it you are drawn by that pity 
and compassion which are implanted in 



54 



SERMON X. 



the heart. Compassion is the call of our 
Father in heaven to us his children, to 
put us upon relieving our brethren in dis- 
tress. This is an affection wisely interwoven 
in our frame by the Author of our nature, 
that whereas abstracted reason is too se- 
dentary and remiss a counsellor, we might 
have a more instant and vigorous pleader 
in our own breasts to excite us to acts of 
charity. As far, indeed, as it is ingrafted 
in us, it is mere instinct; but when we 
cultivate and cherish it, till we love mercy; 
when we dwell upon every tender senti- 
ment that opens our mind and enlarges 
our heart, then it becomes a virtue. Who- 
soever thou art whose heart is hardened 
and waxed gross, put thyself in the room 
of some poor unfriended wretch, beset 
perhaps with a large family, broken with 
misfortunes, and pining with poverty, 
whilst silent grief preys upon his vitals ; 
in such a case, what wouldst thou think it 
reasonable thy rich neighbors should do ? 
That, like the Priest and the Levite, they 
should look with an eye of indifference, 
and pass by on the other side ; or like the 
good Samaritan, pour balm into thy 
wounded mind % Be thyself the judge ! 
and whatever thou thinkest reasonable 
thy neighbors should do to thee, go thou 
and do likewise unto them. 

Consider next the pleasure derived from 
benevolence. Mean and illiberal is the 
man whose soul the good of himself can 
entirely engross. True benevolence, ex- 
tensive as the light of the sun, takes in 
all mankind. It is not indeed in your 
power to support all the indigent, incura- 
ble and aged ; it is not in your power to 
train up in the paths of virtue many friend- 
less and fatherless children : but if, so far 
as the compass of your power reaches, 
nothing is deprived of the influence of 
your bounty, and where your power falls 
short, you are cordially affected to see 
good works done by others, those chari- 
ties which you could not do, will be placed 
to your account. To grasp thus the 
whole system of reasonable beings, with 
an overflowing love, is to possess the 
greatest of all earthly enjoyments, is to 
make approaches to the happiness of 
higher natures, and anticipate the joy of 
the world to come. For it is impossible 
that the man who, actuated by a principle 



of obedience to his Creator, has cherished 
each generous and liberal movement of 
the soul, with a head ever studious to 
contrive, a heart ever willing to promote, 
and hands ever ready to distribute to the 
good of his fellow-creatures, should not- 
withstanding be doomed to be an asso- 
ciate for ever with accursed spirits, in a 
place where benevolence never shed its 
kindly beams, but malice and anguish, 
and blackness of darkness, reign for ever 
and ever. No, the riches which we have 
given away will abide with us for ever. 
The same habit of love will accompany us 
to another world. The bud which hath 
opened here will blow into full expansion 
above, and beautify the paradise in the 
heavens. 



SERMON X. 

ON THE DANGER OF SMALL TRANSGRESSIONS. 

Matthew v. 19. — "Whosoever therefore shall 
break one of these least commandments, and 
shall teach men so, he shall be called the least 
in the kingdom of heaven." 

The Roman Catholics divide sins into 
two classes, the venial and the mortal. 
In the first class, they include those slight 
offences which, as they say, are too incon- 
siderable to offend the Deity, and, in the 
second, those great and aggravated trans- 
gressions which expose men to the Divine 
vengeance in the world to come. Al- 
though this distinction, which overthrows 
the law of morality, is abjured by all Pro- 
testants, yet something like it is still re- 
tained by great numbers of men. What 
the Papists call venial sins, they call sins 
of infirmity, human failings, imperfections 
inseparable from men. And their own 
favorite vices, whatever they be, they call 
by these names. Cruel is the condition 
of the human kind, say they, and rigorous 
the spirit of the christian law, if we are to 
lie under such terrible restrictions ; if 
breaking one of the least commandments 
shall exclude us from the kingdom of God. 
Will the Great Creator be offended by a 
few trivial transgressions ; with little lib- 
erties, which serve only for amusement? 
If others take a general toleration, shall 



ON THE DANGER OF SMALL TRANSGRESSIONS. 



55 



we not have an indulgence at particular 
times ? If we are prohibited from turn- 
ing back in the paths of virtue, may we 
not make a random excursion? If we 
are not allowed to taste the fruits, may 
we not at least crop the blossoms of the 
forbidden tree ? While the waters of 
pleasure flow so near, and look so tempt- 
ing, shall we not be permitted to taste 
and live? Will the Great Judge of the 
world condemn us to eternal punishment, 
for the indulgence of a wandering inclina- 
tion, for the gratification of a sudden ap- 
petite, for a look, a word, or a thought ? 

As this is the apology of vice, which, at 
one time or another, all of you make to 
yourselves, I shall now show you the 
dangerous nature and fatal tendency of 
those offences you call little sins. And in 
entering upon the subject, Christians, I 
must observe to you, that the attempt to 
join together the joys of religion and the 
pleasures of sin, is altogether impracti- 
cable. The Divine law regulates the. en- 
joyments as well as the business of life. 
You are never to forget one moment that 
you are Christians. The joys which you 
are allowed to partake of, are in the train 
of virtue. While you are pilgrims in the 
wilderness, if you return to Egypt again, 
you forfeit your title to the promised land. 
You have left the dominions of sin, you 
have come into another kingdom ; and if 
now you revolt to the foe, you are guilty 
of treason, and may expect to meet with 
the punishment which treason deserves. 
How shall we distinguish then, you say, 
between the sins of infirmity, into which 
the best may fall, and the violation of 
those least commandments which exclude 
from the kingdom of God ? I answer, 
The text makes the distinction. Sins of 
infirmity proceed from frailty and sur- 
prise. The temptation comes upon men 
unexpected ; the foe meets them unpre- 
pared ; and, in such cases, the most cir- 
cumspect may be off their guard, and the 
best natures may fall. But those sins 
which exclude from the kingdom of God, 
are from deliberation and full consent of 
the mind. The persons who commit them, 
as the text says, " teach men so ;" that is, 
they justify themselves in what they do, 
and sin upon a plan. Their evil inten- 
tions are not occasional and transient, but 



permanent and governing ; they sleep and 
wake upon their bad designs, and carry 
them along in their going out and coming 
in; and thus forming evil habits, make 
their lives a system- of iniquity. Who- 
ever does so, though it be only in the 
violation of what he reckons the least com- 
mandment, shall be called least in the 
kingdom of heaven ; that is, shall be ex- 
cluded altogether from it. 

It is proposed, at this time, to set be- 
fore you the evil nature and dangerous 
tendency of the least transgressions. And, 
in the first place, it may be observed, that 
it is a series of little actions that marks 
the characters of men. Human life is not 
composed of great events, but of minute 
occurrences ; and it is not from a man's 
extraordinary exertions, but from his or- 
dinary conduct, that we form our judg- 
ment of his character. When a great 
event is transacting, a man is on his guard, 
he is prepared to act his part well, and 
often, on such occasions, in the hour of 
exhibition, he appears to the world a dif- 
ferent person from what he really is. But 
in the series of little actions, in the detail 
of ordinary life, the turn of mind dis- 
covers itself, the temper unfolds, the cha- 
racter appears. It is then, when man is 
himself, the mask falls off, and the true 
countenance is displayed. Human life 
then, being a circle of petty transactions, 
and the temper of men being known from 
their conduct in little affairs, our character 
for virtue will depend on our performance 
of what the world calls the least of the 
commandments. This is not peculiar to 
virtue. What is it that constitutes the 
happiness of domestic life ? Not the singu- 
lar and uncommon situations, but the fa- 
miliar and the ordinary : not the striking 
events that fly abroad in the mouths of 
the people, bnt the daily round of little 
things which are never mentioned. A miser 
may have a feast, and be a miser still ; he 
only is a happy man who has his enjoy- 
ments everyday. With very great talents, 
and without any remarkable vice, a man 
may become a most disagreeable member 
of society, by his neglect of the atten- 
tions and civilities, and decorum of life. 
In like manner, without being guilty of 
any enormous sin, by the habitual neglect 
of inferior duties, and by the practice 



56 



SERMON X. 



of little offences, a man may sin unto 
death. 

A good life is one of those pictures 
whose perfection arises from the nice and 
the minute strokes. It is not one blazing 
star, but the host of lesser lights, which 
forms the beauty of the heavens. In like 
manner, How does the great Judge at 
the last day decide the fate, and deter- 
mine the characters of men ? You reckon 
sins of omission but little sins, yet, on ac- 
count of these, the sentence of everlasting 
condemnation is passed. Because ye gave 
no bread to the hungry, no water to the 
thirsty, and no raiment to the naked, re- 
lieved not the oppressed, and visited not 
the prisoner, therefore " depart into ever- 
lasting fire, prepared for the devil and his 
angels." In like manner he determines 
the character of the righteous, not from 
the striking and splendid virtues they ex- 
hibit to the world, but from the perform- 
ance of the inferior duties of daily life : 
" Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit 
the kingdom prepared for you from the 
foundation of the world." Why ? Is it 
for the splendid works of piety, for build- 
ing temples to the Deity, or dying as mar- 
tyrs to the Christian Faith ? No. Men 
may build temples, without love to the 
Deity : they may die as martyrs, without 
real religion ; but because ye have given 
food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, 
and raiment to the naked ; actions of life 
in which ye must have been sincere ; be- 
cause ye never expected that such actions 
would be heard of, and the practice of 
them grew so much into habit, that ye 
scarcely thought it a virtue to perform 
them. 

Secondly, These little sins attack the 
authority of the Divine Legislator as 
much, or perhaps more, than great sins. 
Evil thoughts are as expressly prohibited 
in the Divine law as evil deeds. The same 
God who says, Thou shalt not kill, says 
also, Thou shalt not hate thy brother in 
thy heart. What sentiment must you en- 
tertain of the Majesty in the heavens, 
when his commands cannot restrain you 
from the commission of the least sin? 
Hath not God forbidden the impure de- 
sire and the malicious intention, as well 
as adultery and murder ? And is it not 
as much his will that he should be obeyed 



in those commandments as in these ? Have 
you a dispensation granted you to take 
the name of God in vain in common con- 
versation, any more than you have to swear 
falsely before a civil magistrate ? Have 
you more liberty allowed you to wound 
your neighbor's character than you have 
to shed his blood ? No, the prohibition 
extends to the one as well as to the other. 
The same authority that forbids the ac- 
tion, forbids the desire. The same law 
which says, Thou shalt not steal, says also, 
Thou shalt not covet. But you say, that 
the indulgences you plead for, are with 
regard to things in their own nature in- 
different. Alas ! if you had proper ideas 
of a God possessed of infinite perfection, 
nothing that he commands or forbids 
would appear indifferent. To you it may 
appear a matter of little moment or con- 
cern, what the strain of your thoughts is, 
or how the tenor of your conversation 
runs; but when you learn that your 
thoughts are known in heaven, and that 
by your words you shall be justified or 
condemned, these assume a more serious 
form, and become of infinite importance. 
But if the things for which you beg an in- 
dulgence are in their own nature small, 
why do you not abstain from them ? If 
the prophet had commanded you to do a 
great thing, you might have murmured 
against the precept ; but when he only en- 
joins what you yourselves reckon a little 
thing, what pretence have you for a com- 
plaint ? In place of being an excuse, this 
is an aggravation of your offence. With 
your own mouth you condemn yourself. 
Can there be a stronger proof of a de- 
generate nature and a stubborn mind, than 
this inclination to disobey your Creator, 
in things that you reckon of little conse- 
quence 1 What can show a heart harden- 
ed against God, and set against the hea- 
vens, so much as this refractory and 
rebellious disposition, which leads men 
to violate the majesty of the law, to in- 
sult the authority of the Lawgiver, to risk 
the vengeance of the Omnipotent, and to 
pour contempt on all the perfections of the 
Divine nature, rather than part with what 
they themselves reckon small and incon- 
siderable. 

In the third place, You may contract 
as much guilt by breaking the least of the 



ON THE DANGER OF S1V 

commandments, as by breaking the great- 
est of them. You start back, and are 
affrighted at the approach of great iniqui- 
ty ; the heart revolts from a temptation 
to flagrant sins ; yet thousands of lesser 
sins, evil thoughts, malicious words, petty 
oaths, commodious lies, little deceits, you 
make no scruple to commit every day. 
But the guilt of such reiterated sins is as 
great, or greater, than that of any single sin. 
To hate your neighbor in your heart with- 
out cause, to take every opportunity of 
blasting his character, and defeating his 
designs, makes you as guilty in the Divine 
eye as if you had imbrued your hands in 
his blood. To use false weights, and a 
deceitful balance, is as criminal as a direct 
act of theft. He, who defrauds his neigh- 
bor daily in the course of his business, is 
a greater sinner before God, and a worse 
member of society, than he who once in 
his life robs on the highway. The fre- 
quency of these little sins makes the guilt 
great, and the danger extreme. The con- 
stant operation of evil deeds impairs the 
strength of the soul, and shakes- the foun- 
dation on which virtue rests. Wave suc- 
ceeding wave undermines the whole fabric 
of virtue, and makes the building of God 
to fall. The thorns, which at first could 
scarcely be seen, spread by degrees over 
the field, and choke the good seed. The 
locusts, which Moses brought over the 
land of Egypt, appeared at first a con- 
temptible multitude ; but in a little time, 
like a cloud, they darkened the air ,• as a 
mighty army, they covered the face of the 
earth ; they devoured the herb of the field, 
the fruit of the tree, and every green 
thing, and turned what was formerly like 
the garden of Eden into a desolate wilder- 
ness. Thus these little sins increase as 
they advance ; they blast where they 
enter ; by degrees they make the spiritual 
life decay ; they lay waste the new crea- 
tion, and turn the intellectual world into 
a chaos, without form, and void of order. 
And yet we are not on our guard against 
them. It fareth with us as it did with the 
Israelites of old. We tremble more at 
one Goliath than at the whole army of the 
Philistines. One gross scandalous sin 
makes us recoil and start back ; and yet 
we venture on the guilt of numberless 
smaller sins, without hesitation or remorse. 
What signifies it whether you die of 



[ALL TRANSGRESSIONS. 57 

many small wounds, or by one great 
wound ? What great difference does it 
make, whether the devouring fire and the 
everlasting burnings are kindled by many 
sparks, or by one fire-brand ? When God 
shall reckon up against you at the great 
day the many thousand malicious thoughts, 
slanderous words, deceits, oaths, impreca- 
tions, lies, that you have been guilty of, 
the account will be as dreadful, and the 
wrath as insupportable, as if atrocious 
crimes had stood upon the list. 

In the fourth place, These little offences 
make life a chain and a continuation of 
sins, so that conversion becomes almost 
impossible. Often, upon the commission 
of a gross sin, a sober interval succeeds ; 
serious reflection has its hour; sorrow 
and contrition of heart take their turn ; 
then is the crisis of a man's character ; 
and many improving this favorable oppor- 
tunity, have risen greater from their fall. 
But if these little sins then come in ; if 
between the commission of one gross sin 
and another, there intervenes a constant 
neglect of God, a hardness of heart, a 
vanity of imagination, and unfruitfulness 
of life, you still add to the number of 
your sins, and treasure up to yourselves 
wrath against the day of wrath. Such 
little sins fill up all the void spaces ; so 
that, by this means, life becomes an un- 
interrupted and unbroken chain of iniqui- 
ty. Thus you render yourselves incapable 
of reformation, and put yourselves out of 
the power of Divine grace. How is it pos- 
sible that you can ever come within the 
reach of mercy ? How can the voice of 
God reach your heart ? He speaks to you 
in the majestic silence of his works ; but 
you reckon it no sin at all to shut your 
ears against the voice which comes from 
heaven to earth, and reaches from one end 
of the world to the other. He speaks to 
you by the voice of his providence; but 
you reckon it of little moment to regard 
the doings of the Lord. He speaks to you 
in the holy Scriptures ; but you reckon 
the precept to read these one of the least 
commandments. He speaks to you in the 
ordinances of his own institution, but alas ! 
how many hold it a little sin to absent 
themselves from these altogether ? And 
how many of those who attend, think it 
but a little sin to spend their time as un- 
profitably as if absent ! He speaks to you 



58 



SERMON XL 



with the still small voice ; his Spirit 
whispers to your spirit. He seeks to 
enter in by your thoughts ; but vanity, and 
folly, and vice, swarms of little sins, stop 
up the passage. Thus every corner of life 
is filled up. Every avenue to the heart is 
shut. You no where lie open to the im- 
pression of Divine grace, and the soul is 
so full, that there is no room for the Holy 
Spirit to enter. 

In the last place, These lesser sins in- 
fallibly lead to greater. There is a fatal 
progress in vice. One sin naturally leads 
to another : the first step leads to the 
second, till, by degrees, you come to the 
bottom of the precipice. Deceit, duplicity, 
dissimulation in different matters, which 
many persons who maintain what is called 
a decent character, make no scruple to em- 
ploy, have a tendency to render you in- 
sincere on more important occasions, and 
may gradually destroy your character of 
integrity altogether. He, who tells false- 
hoods for his own conveniency, will in the 
natural course of things, become a com- 
mon liar. 

The spirit of gaming perhaps you reckon 
a small sin. But whenever gaming is made 
a serious business, and the love of it be- 
comes apassion, farewell to tranquillity and 
virtue. Then succeed days of vanity and 
nights of care ; dissipation of life, corrup- 
tion of manners, inattention to domestic 
affairs, arts of deceit, lying, cursing, and 
perjury. At a distance poverty, with con- 
tempt at her heels, and in the rear of all, 
despair bringing a halter in her hand. 

Thus have I set before you the evil na- 
ture and the dangerous tendency of the 
least transgressions. And do you ask an 
indulgence in little sins, when you see how 
fatal they are ? Do you still ask to make 
an excursion from the path of virtue ? 
Such an excursion if you make you will 
fall in with the road to perdition. Do 
you still wish to taste the waters which 
unlawful pleasure presents to your eye ? 
Taste them you may ; but be assured that 
there is poison in the stream, and death in 
the cup. Alas ! if we calmly indulge our- 
selves in the cool commission of the least 
sin, who knows when, or where we shall 
stop? If once we yield to the tempta- 
tion, in whose power is it to say, Hitherto 
shall I go, but no farther ? Many per- 



sons at their first setting out, would have 
trembled at the very thought of these sins, 
which in time, and by an easy transition, 
they have been .brought to commit with 
boldness. The traitor consigned to eter- 
nal infamy, Judas Iscariot, who betrayed 
the Lord of glory, had at first only his 
covetousness to answer for. Fly, there- 
fore, I beseech you, fly from the first ap- 
proaches of sin. Gruard your innocence, as 
you would guard your life. If you ad- 
vance one step over the line which sepa- 
rates the way of life from the way of death, 
down you sink to the bottomless abyss. 
Come not then near the territories of per- 
dition. Stand back, and survey the tor- 
rent which is now so mighty and overflow- 
ing, that it deluges the land, and you will 
find it to proceed from a small contempti- 
ble brook. Examine the conflagration 
that has laid a city in ashes, and you will 
find it to arise from a single spark. 



SERMON XL 

ON THE DELIVERANCE FROM REMORSE. 

Heb. xii. 24. — " The blood of sprinkling, which 
speaketh better things than that of Abel." . 

Reason and philosophy have applied their 
powers to external objects with wonderful 
success. They have traced the order of 
nature, and explained the elements of 
things. By observation and experience, 
they have ascertained the laws of the uni- 
verse ; they have counted the number of 
the stars ; and following the footsteps of 
the Almighty, have discovered some of 
the great lines of that original plan ac- 
cording to which he created the world. 
But when they approach the region of 
spirit and intelligence, they stop short in 
their discoveries. The mind eludes its 
own search. The Author of our nature has 
cheked our career in such studies, to teach 
us that action and moral improvement, 
not speculation and inquiry, are the ends 
of our being. Accordingly, the moral 
part of our frame is the easiest under- 
stood. Having been placed here by Prov- 
idence for great and noble purposes, virtue 
is the law of our nature. This being the 



• 



ON THE DELIVERANCE FROM REMORSE. 



59 



great rule in the moral world, God has 
enforced it in various ways. He hath en- 
dowed us with a sense or faculty which, 
viewing actions in themselves, without re- 
gard to their consequences, approves or dis- 
approves thein. He hath endowed us with 
another sense, which passes sentence upon 
actions according to their consequences in 
society. He hath given us a third, which, 
removing human actions from life, and the 
world altogether, carries them to a higher 
tribunal. The first, which is the moral 
sense, belongs to us as individuals ; is 
instinctive in all its operations ; approves 
of virtue as being moral beauty ; and dis- 
approves of vice as being moral deformity. 
The second, which is the sense of utility, 
belongs to us as members of society, is di- 
rected in its* operations by reason, and 
passes sentence upon actions according as 
they are favorable or pernicious to the 
public good. The third, which is con- 
science } belongs to us as subjects of the 
Divine government, is directed in its ope- 
rations by the word of God, and considers 
human actions as connected with a future 
state of rewards and punishments. It is 
this which properly belongs to religion. 
Upon this faculty of conscience, the happi- 
ness or misery of mankind in a great mea- 
sure depends. A good conscience -is a 
continual feast, and proves a spring of joy 
amidst the greatest distresses. A conscience 
troubled with remorse or haunted with 
fear, is the greatest of all human evils. 
Accordingly, the Christian religion, which 
adapts itself to every state of our nature, 
and carries consolation to the mind in 
every distress, has presented to the weary 
and heavy laden sinner, " the blood of 
sprinkling, which speaketh better things 
than the blood of Abel." The meaning 
of which expression is this : as the blood 
of Abel, crying to Heaven for vengeance, 
filled the mind of Cain with horror, and 
as every sin is attended with remorse ; so 
the blood of Jesus is of power to deliver 
the mind from this remorse, and restore 
peace of conscience to the true penitent. 

In further treating upon this subject, I 
shall describe to you the nature of that 
remorse which is the companion of a guilty 
mind ; and next the deliverance which the 
gospel gives us from it, by means of " the 
" blood of sprinkling." In the first place, 



then, Let us consider the nature of that 
remorse which is the companion of a guilty 
mind. 

Almighty God having created man after 
his own image, intended him for moral 
excellence and perfection. Hence all his 
passions were originally set on the side of 
virtue, and all his faculties tended to 
heaven. Conscience is still the least corrupt- 
ed of all the powers of the soul. It keeps 
a faithful register of our deeds, and passes 
impartial sentence upon them. It is ap- 
pointed the judge of human life ; is invest- 
ed with authority and dominion over the 
whole man, and is armed with stings to 
punish the guilty. These are the sanc- 
tions and enforcements of that eternal law 
to which we are subjected. For even in 
our present fallen state, we are so framed 
by the Author of our nature, that moral 
evil can no more be committed than na- 
tural evil can be suffered, without anguish 
and disquiet. As pain follows the inflic- 
tion of a wound, as certainly doth remorse 
attend the commission of sin. Conscience 
may be lulled asleep for a while, but it 
will one day vindicate its rights. It will 
seize the sinner in an hour when he is not 
aware ; will blast him perhaps in the midst 
of his mirth, and put him to the torture 
of an accusing mind. For the truth of 
this observation, let me appeal to your 
own experience. Did you ever indulge a 
criminal passion, did you ever allow your- 
selves in any practice which you knew to 
be unlawful, without feeling an inward 
struggle and strong reluctance of mind 
before the attempt, and bitter pangs of 
remorse after the commission ? Though 
no eye saw what you did ; though you 
were sure that no mortal could discover 
it, did not shame and confusion secretly 
lay hold of you ? Was not your own 
conscience instead of a thousand witnesses ? 
Did it not plead with you face to face, and 
upbraid you for your transgressions ? 
Have not some of you perhaps, at this 
instant, a sensible experience of the truths 
which I am now pressing upon you ? In 
these days of retirement and self examina- 
tion, did you not feel the operation of 
that powerful principle ? Did not your 
sins then rise up before you in sad remem- 
brance ? Has not the image of them pur- 
sued you into the house of God ? And 



60 



SERMON XI 



are not your minds now stung with some 
of that regret which followed the first com- 
mission ? 

My brethren, there is no escaping from 
a guilty mind. You can avoid some evils, 
by mingling in society ; you can avoid 
others, by retiring into solitude ; but this 
enemy, this tormentor within, is never to 
be avoided. If thou retirest into solitude, 
it will meet thee there and haunt thee like 
a ghost. If thou goest into society, it 
will go with thee ; it will mar the enter- 
tainment, and clash the untasted cup from 
thy trembling hand. Whilst the sinner 
indulges his vain imagination ; whilst he 
solaces himself with the prospect of plea- 
sures rising upon pleasures never to have 
an end, and says to his soul, Be of good 
cheer, thou hast happiness laid up for 
many years, a voice comes to his heart 
that strikes him with sudden fear, and 
turns the vision of joy to a scene of hor- 
ror. Whilst the proud and impious Bel- 
shazzar enjoys the feast with his princes, 
his concubines, and his wives ; whilst he 
carouses in the consecrated vessels of the 
sanctuary ; in a moment the scene changes; 
the handwriting on the wall turns the 
house of mirth into a house of mourning; 
the countenance of the king changes, and 
his knees smite one against another, 
whilst the Prophet, in awful accents, pro- 
nounces his doom ; pronounces that his 
hour is come, and that his kingdom is de- 
parted from him. 

It is in adversity that the pangs of con- 
science are most severely felt. When 
affliction humbles the native pride of the 
heart, and gives a man leisure to reflect 
upon his former ways, his past life rises 
up to view ; having now no interest in the 
sins which he committed, they appear in 
all their native deformity, and fill his 
mind with anguish and remorse. Men 
date their misfortunes from their faults, 
and acknowledge their sin when they meet 
with the punishment. The sons of Jacob 
felt no remorse when they sold their 
brother to be a slave; they had delivered 
themselves from the foolish fear that he 
was one day to be greater than they ; they 
congratulated themselves upon the mighty 
deliverance. But the very first misfortune 
which befell them, a little rough usage in 
a foreign land, awakened their guilty fears, 



and they said one to another, " We are 
verily guilty concerning our brother, in 
that we saw the anguish of his soul when 
he besought us, and we would not hear, 
therefore is this distress come upon us." 

But that the prosperous sinner may 
not presume upon impunity from the 
lashes of a guilty mind, and to show you 
that no situation, however exempted from 
adversity, and that no station, however 
exalted, is proof against the horrors of 
remorse, I shall adduce two remarkable 
instances of persons who felt all the hor- 
rors of a guilty mind, without meeting 
with any judgments to awaken them. The 
first is that of Cain, referred to in the 
text. When the offering of Abel ascended 
acceptable and well-pleasing to Grod, Cain 
was seized with envy ; from that moment 
he meditated vengeance against him, and 
at last imbrued his hands in the blood of 
his brother. There was then no law 
against murder; and if antecedent to law 
there is no original sense of right and 
wrong implanted in the mind ; if con- 
science, as some affirm, was not a natural 
but an acquired power, the mind of Cain 
might have been at ease ; he might have 
enjoyed the calm and the serenity of in- 
nocence. But when he was brought to the 
tribunal of conscience, was his mind at 
ease ? Did he enjoy the calm and the 
serenity of innocence ? No. He cried out 
in the bitterness of remorse, " My pun- 
ishment is greater than I can bear." What 
punishment did he complain of? There 
was then no punishment denounced against 
murder, and the Lord expressly secured 
him from corporal punishment. But he 
had that within, to which all external pun- 
ishments are light. He was extended on 
the rack of reflection, and he lay upon the 
torture of the mind. Hell was kindled 
within him, and he felt the first gnawings 
of the worm that never dies. 

Another remarkable instance of the do- 
minion of conscience, we have in the his- 
tory of Herod. John the Baptist, the 
harbinger of our Lord, sojourned a while 
in the court of Herod. This faithful 
monitor spared not sin in the person of a 
king, but reproved him openly for his 
vices. Herod, although he disliked, yet 
he respected the Prophet, and feared the 
multitude, who believed in his doctrines. 



ON THE DELIVERANCE FROM REMORSE. 



61 



But on Herod's birth-day, when the 
daughter of Herodias danced before him, 
he made a sudden vow, that he would 
grant her whatever she desired. Being 
instructed of her mother, she asked the 
head of John the Baptist. One of the 
common arts by which we deceive our 
consciences is to set one duty against 
another. Hence sin is generally committed 
under the appearance of some virtue, and 
hence the greatest crimes which have ever 
troubled the world, have been committed 
under the show of religion. Such was 
the crime which we are now considering. 
The observance of an oath has, among all 
nations, been regarded as a religious act ; 
and here a fair opportunity offered itself 
to one who only waited for such an oppor- 
tunity, to make religion triumph at the 
expense of virtue. If Herod had no in- 
clination to destroy the Prophet, and no 
interest in his death, his conscience would 
have told him that murder was an atro- 
cious crime, which no consideration could 
alleviate, nor excuse ; it would have told 
him that vows, which it is unlawful to 
make, it is also unlawful to keep ; but 
Herod was already a party in the cause ; 
he determined to get rid of his enemy ; 
he satisfied his conscience with some vain 
pretences, and gave orders to behead the 
Baptist. But were all his anxieties and 
sorrows buried with the Prophet ? No : 
the grave of the Prophet was the grave 
of his peace. Neither the splendor of 
Majesty, nor the guards of state, nor the 
noise of battle, nor the shouts of victory, 
could drown the alarms of conscience. 
That mangled form was ever present to 
his eyes ; the cry of blood was ever in his 
ears. Hence, when our Saviour appeared 
in a public character, and began to teach 
and to work miracles, Herod cried out, in 
the horrors of a guilty mind, " It is John 
the Baptist whom I slew ; he is risen from 
the dead." 

How great, my brethren, is the power 
and dominion of conscience ! The Al- 
mighty appointed it his vicegerent in the 
world ; he invested it with his own author- 
ity, and said, " Be thou a God unto man." 
Hence it has power over the course of 
time. It can recall the past ; it can an- 
ticipate the future. It reaches beyond 
the limits of this globe ; it visits the cham- 



bers of the grave ; it reanimates/the bodies 
of the dead ; exerts a dominion over the 
invisible regions, and summons the inhab- 
itants of the eternal world to haunt the 
slumbers, and shake the hearts, of the 
wicked. Tremble, then, 0 man ! whoso- 
ever thou art, who art conscious to thyself 
of unrepented sins. Peace of mind thou 
shalt never enjoy. Repose, like a false 
friend, shall fly from thee. Thou shalt 
be driven from the presence of the Lord 
like Adam when he sinned, and be terri- 
fied when thou hearest his voice, as awful 
when it comes from within, as when it 
came from without. The spirit of a man 
may sustain his infirmity ; but a spirit 
wounded by remorse who can bear ? 

The second thing proposed, was, to show 
you the deliverance which the Gospel 
gives us from remorse, by means of the 
" blood of sprinkling." This expression 
alludes to the ceremonial method of ex- 
piating sin under the Old Testament, by 
offering sacrifices, and sprinkling the blood 
of the victim upon the altar. But as this 
was in itself only typical of Christ, How 
welcome to the soul is the glad tidings of 
the Messiah, who did, what these sacri- 
fices could not do,— actually save his peo- 
ple from their sins ! By the atonement 
and blood of Christ, the sins of men have 
been completely expiated. It is the voice 
of the G-ospel of Peace, " Take, eat, and 
live for ever." What relief will it give 
to the wounded mind, to hear of the blood 
of sprinkling, which speaketh better things 
than the blood of Abel ! The Gospel 
being published to the world, and the 
offers of mercy through a Redeemer being 
made to all men, the sincere penitent ac- 
cepts these offers, and flies for refuge to 
the hope set before him. Then Jesus 
saves his people from their sins, he heals 
the mind which was wounded by remorse, 
and bestows that peace which the world 
cannot give, and cannot take away. There 
is joy in heaven, we are told, over a sinner 
that repenteth, and the joy of the heavens 
is communicated to the returning penitent. 
When he beholds God reconciled to him 
in the face of his Son ; when he hears, in 
secret, the blessed Jesus whispering in 
sweet strains to his heart, " Son, be of 
good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee." he 
is filled with peace and with joy ; with peace 



62 



SERMON XII. 



which passeth all understanding ; with 
joy which is unspeakable and glorious. 
His sins being forgiven, he is accepted in 
the Beloved. He is an heir of immortality, 
and his name is written in heaven ; to him 
is opened the fountain of life. He has a 
title to all the pleasures which are at God's 
right hand : to the treasures of heaven, and 
to the joys of eternity. He looks forward 
with a well-grounded hope, to that happy 
day, when he shall take possession of the 
inheritance on high ; he anticipates the 
delights of the world to come, and breaks 
forth into strains of exultation, similar to 
those transports of assurance uttered by 
the apostle, " Who shall lay any thing to 
the charge of God's elect ? It is God 
that justifieth ; who is he that condemneth? 
It is Christ that died, yea, rather, that is 
risen again, and who now sitteth and in- 
tercedeth for us at God's right hand." 



SERMON XII. 

on the value of the soul. 

Mark viii. 36. — "For what shall it profit a man, 
if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his 
own soul ? " 

There is not a person in this assembly, 
but who assents immediately to the truth 
of the maxim implied in the text. You 
all agree, that religion is the one thing 
needful, and that above all things you 
ought to seek the kingdom of God, and 
the righteousness thereof. But there is a 
wide difference between the assent of the 
mind to the truth of' this principle, and 
that deep conviction of its importance, 
which, in Scripture, obtains the name of 
faith ; sufficient to influence the heart, and 
to determine the life. A great part of 
mankind seem -to have no steady belief 
that they' are endowed with souls which 
are immortal : an eternity to come is with 
them merely a matter of speculation, and 
their faith in a future world has little 
more influence upon their lives, than their 
idea of a distant country, which they are 
never to see. Hence spiritual and eternal 
things are heard with little emotion or 
concern, while they are delivered in the 
house of God. Some can give themselves 



up to listlessness ; and others soon lose all 
remembrance of what they have heard, hi 
the next amusement, or in the news of the 
day. Even he who spoke as never man 
spake, and while he discoursed on points 
of such importance as the loss of the soul, 
had occasion often to take up the com- 
plaint, that in vain he stretched out his 
hands all day long to a disobedient people. 

To call your contemplation, then, to 
these subjects, for they need no more but 
to be considered aright, in order to be felt, 
I shall endeavor to show you the value of 
the soul, from its native dignity, from its 
capacity of improvement, from its immor- 
tality, and from its unalterable state at 
death. 

Let us consider then, in the first place . 
The native importance and dignity of the 
human soul. It is the mind chiefly that 
is the man. Our souls properly are our- 
selves. The bodily organs are the minis- 
ters of the mind; by these it sees and 
hears, and holds a correspondence with 
external things. It is by our souls that 
we hold our station in the scale of being ; 
that we rank above the animal world, and 
claim alliance with superior and immortal 
natures. As the soul is superior to the 
body, so intellectual pleasures exceed the 
sensual; as heaven is higher than the 
earth, so the joys of a heavenly origin are 
superior to earthly enjoyments. I mean 
not in the common way, to depreciate tem- 
poral possessions, as being insignificant in 
themselves, and unworthy the cares or la- 
bors of a wise man. Such discourse is 
mere declamation ; it is against nature, 
contrary to truth, and makes no impression 
at all. Let all the value be set upon 
wealth and temporal possessions which 
they deserve, as affording a defence from 
many evils to which poverty is liable ; as 
ministering to the convenience, the conso- 
lation, and the enjoyment of life ; as sup- 
porting a station with decency and dignity 
in the world, and as accompanied with an 
importance, by which a good man may find 
much pleasure arising to himself, and have 
the power of doing much good to his fel- 
low-creatures ; let all the value which 
reason allows, be set upon temporal acqui- 
sitions and enjoyments, still they are in- 
ferior to those of an intellectual and moral 
kind ; still the maxim remains true, That 



ON THE VALUE OF THE SOUL. 



63 



he would be an infinite loser who should 
gain the whole world and lose his own 
soul. " Thou hast put more gladness into 
my heart," saith the Psalmist, "than 
worldly men know, when their corn, and 
their wine, and their oil abound. 1 ' And 
do not your own feeling and experience 
bear witness to this truth ? Who will not 
acknowledge that there is more excellence 
in wisdom, than in mere animal strength ? 
Who will not own that there is more hap- 
piness in the improving conversation of 
the wise, than in the tumultuous uproar 
of the debauched and licentious ? Are 
the rays of light as pleasant to the eye 
as the radiations of truth to the mind ? 
Have sensual gratifications a charm for 
the soul, equal to intellectual and moral 
joys ? While the former soon pall upon 
the appetite, are not the latter a perpetual 
feast ? While the remembrance of the 
one is attended with no pleasure, is not 
the remembrance of the other a repetition 
of the enjoyment ? 

But great as the dignity of the human 
soul is, it may be still greater ; for, in the 
second place, It possesses a capacity of 
improvement. This constitutes one essen- 
tial difference between the intellectual and 
the material world. All material things 
soon reach the end of their progress, and 
arrive at a point beyond which they cannot 
go. Instinct grows apace, and the animal 
is soon complete in all its faculties and 
powers. Man ripens more slowly, because 
he ripens for immortality. Those enjoy- 
ments and pursuits of man also, which do 
not belong to him as an immortal being, 
come soon to their period. Amusement, 
when continued too long, becomes a fa- 
tigue. In pleasure there is a point, beyond 
which, if it be carried, it is a' pleasure no 
more, it turns into pain. The pursuits of 
greatness too, are very limited, and the 
race of honor is soon run. After many a 
weary step, the votary of ambition finds 
that he has been running in a circle, and 
that he is come to the self-same point 
from which he set out Mind, mind alone, 
contains in itself the principle of progres- 
sion and improvement without end. There 
is no ultimate power in the progress of 
man : there is no termination to the career 
of an immortal spirit. The dominions of 
earthly greatness are circumscribed within 



narrow limits, and the hero has often 
wished for new countries to conquer : but 
the empire of the mind has no limit nor 
boundary : and we can never arrive at 
that period, where we may say, Hitherto 
can we go, but no further. Never have 
we learned so much, but we may learn 
more. Suppose life never so long, if the 
powers remain, new paths to science may 
be struck out, fresh accssions to knowledge 
may be made. And we know from experi- 
ence, that the largest measure of knowledge 
proves no burden to the mind, nor weak- 
ens its powers ; but that, on the contrary, 
the capacity enlarges with the acquisition, 
and that men, the more they have learned, 
the more apt they are to learn ; the less 
is their labor, and the easier their progress. 

Improvements in goodness keep pace 
with improvements in wisdom. Repeated 
acts of obedience grow into habit ; the 
penitent is confirmed in righteousness, and 
he that is holy becomes holier still. From 
the fulness which is in God, he adds grace 
to grace. The day of small things shineth 
more and more ; and that day is succeed- 
ed by no night. The pilgrims, who at 
first set out feeble and faint, grow vigor- 
ous as they advance, going forward from 
strength to strength ; ascending from one 
degree of goodness to unother, they ap- 
proach the everlasting hills, and, coming 
within the sphere of heaven, they inhale 
the spirit of their native region, they feel 
the attractions of the uncreated beauty, 
they receive a foretaste of the fruits of 
life, and with hearts already full of heaven, 
and with tongues already tuned to the songs 
above, they put on the brightness of angels, 
and enter into the mansions of paradise. 

In the third place, The value of the 
soul will further appear, if we consider 
that it is immortal. All human things 
soon come to an end. Temporal posses- 
sions and earthly greatness have a short 
date. The world itself is for ever chang- 
ing; the fashion thereof passes away, and 
he who knows it in one age, in the next 
would not know it again. .How short- 
lived are the enjoyments of this mortal 
state ! Although the flowers of transient 
joy, more hardy than the gourd of Jonah, 
may outlive the heat of the morning, and 
glow amid the blaze of noon, yet when 
the blast of evening comes, they are nipt 



64 



SERMON XII. 



and wither away. Ambition too has its 
day, and often a short one. Its votaries 
seem to be raised, but the more sensibly 
to feet their fall. The same whirlwind 
that snatches them up from the crowd, 
brings them down at even with tenfold 
fury. Not to mention these more violent 
revolutions, its natural period soon comes. 
He who runs the race of human glory, is 
lost in the very dust that is raised around 
him. And such is the sudden end of all 
terrestrial enjoyments, when, after the 
study and the labor of years, we have 
with, much pains and care gathered to- 
gether the requisites and materials of a 
happy life, and say to yourselves, " Soul, 
take thine ease, thou hast goods laid up 
for many years," the warning voice is 
heard, " Thou fool, this night thy soul 
shall be required of thee." So transient 
is the date, so short the day of power, and 
pleasure, and greatness ! But wisdom 
never dies ; but virtue is immortal. We 
have a higher life than that which beats 
in the pulse, and when the dust returns to 
the dust as it was, the spirit returns to 
God who gave it. It is indeed an awful, 
though a pleasing thought, that we have 
an eternity before us. When the sun shall 
be extinguished in eternal darkness, when 
the heavens shall be rolled together like a 
scroll, when the earth with all its works 
shall be dissolved, the soul shall survive 
the general wreck, and exult in the enjoy- 
ment of youth immortal! To think of an 
infinity of years of existence enduring be- 
yond all the numbers which we can add 
together, beyond all the millions of ages 
which figures can comprehend, and that, 
when all this vast sum of duration is ex- 
pended, our existence is but just begin- 
ning, is, indeed, beyond imagination to 
grasp. Never to come to an end, never 
to be nearer an end, is indeed amazing, 
overwhelming, and incomprehensible to the 
mind. But such is thine inheritance, 0 
man ! " Because I live," saith the Lord, 
"ye shall live also." Our duration shall 
be coeval with His years who sits upon 
the throne for ever ; the Ancient of days, 
who is, and was, and is to come. 

In the last place, To show you the 
value of the soul still more, after death 
its state is unalterable. This is our state 
of probation, and now is the time to fix 



the character for eternity. This is the 
spring-time of everlasting life ; according 
as we now sow, hereafter we shall reap ; 
on our present conduct, depends our hap- 
piness or misery for ever. There is nei- 
ther repentance nor apostasy beyond the 
grave. The righteous can never fall away, 
and to the wicked there remaineth no 
more sacrifice for sin. From the judg- 
ment-seat of the Immutable, the voice is 
heard, "He that is righteous, let him be 
righteous still ; and he that is unjust, let 
him be unjust still." 

But even here, too, appears that good- 
ness of God which is over all his works. 
For while we know not of any addition to 
the torments of the wicked, the happiness 
of the righteous shall be for ever on the 
increase. That capacity of improvement 
which we formerly ascribed to the soul, is 
a capacity of improvement without end. 
The progress which begins here, is carried 
on hereafter. Heaven is indeed the resi- 
dence of the spirits of just men made per- 
fect ; but it is not to be imagined, that 
they are all at once advanced to a perfec- 
tion which they shall not to eternity ex- 
ceed. They will indeed find their state 
happy, when they are taken from this 
world ; they will all be presented without 
spot or blemish in the presence of God, 
with exceeding joy; but still there is 
room left for their improvement in perfec- 
tion and happiness. It cannot, indeed, be 
otherwise. For the more we know of the 
Divine perfections and works, our venera- 
tion and love of God will increase the 
more. Now, it is impossible that we can 
ever know so much of God and his works, 
but that we may know more. As our 
knowledge of God, therefore, and our 
views of the Divine glory will be enlarged 
without end, our love and admiration of 
him will also increase for ever. And in 
proportion to our love, our assimilation to 
the Divine nature, and our joy in the 
Lord, will be. What a prospect. 0 Chris- 
tian, does this open up to thy mind ! 
Here thou art at liberty to expatiate at 
large ! Here is a noble field for thy con- 
templation! There is a time appointed 
when thou shalt occupy that station which 
is now occupied by the highest angel in 
heaven. Not that we shall overtake the 
angels in their course, or, in the career 



ON THE CELEBRATION 



OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



65 



of immortality, press upon natures of a 
superior order ; but that we shall make 
advances in moral perfections, and im- 
prove in the beauties of immortality. 
God shall behold his great family for ever 
brightening in holiness ; for ever drawing 
nearer and nearer in likeness to himself. 
The river of their pleasures increases as it 
rolls. The fulness of their joy grows 
more and more full. Throughout all the 
ages of eternity, there is still a heaven 
which is to come ; still a glory which is 
to be revealed. 

If the soul then be of such infinite 
value, how inexpressibly great must the 
loss of it be ! Over the mansions of utter 
^ darkness, the Scriptures draw a veil which 
does not authorize our conjectures. What 
is comprehended under these awful em- 
blems, the worm that never dies, the fire 
that is not quenched, everlasting destruc- 
tion from the presence of the Lord, and 
the glory of his power, we do not know. 
May the Almighty forbid, that any of us 
should ever know ! But of this, the Scrip- 
tures assure us, that from these mansions 
there is no return; that the gates of the 
eternal world shut to open no more, and 
that when the soul is once lost, it is lost 
for ever and for ever ! 



SERMON XIII. 

ON THE CELEBRATION OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

Psalm xliii. 4. — "I will go unto the altar of 
God, unto God my exceeding joy." 

CHPasTiANS, as we are next Lord's day to 
go to the altar, and approach unto God, it 
may be proper for me now to explain the 
nature, and set before you the advantages, 
of such an approach. 

The pleasures of devotion have been 
the theme of good men in all ages ; and 
they are pleasures of such a kind as good 
men only can feel. In what I am now to 
say therefore, I must appeal to the heart, 
to the hearts of those who, in times past, 
have felt the joy of spiritual communion, 
and who will again feel that it is good 
still for them to draw nigh unto God. 

This is the time when J esus prepares a 
5 



banquet for his friends ; when the Spirit 
saith, Come ; when the Church saith, 
Come ; when he that is athirst is invited 
to come ; and happy will it be when the 
friends of Jesus prepare to meet with 
their Lord, if those who have hitherto 
been strangers to the holy hill, shall be 
attracted with the beauty which is in true 
holiness, also to come and to take the 
waters of life freely. For thus runs the 
gracious promise of Heaven : " The stran- 
gers who join themselves to the Lord, to 
love him and to serve him, even them will 
I bring to my holy mountain, and make 
them "joyful in my house of prayer." 
In further treating on this subject, what 
I intend at present, is, in the first place, 
To explain the nature of that approach 
which the devout make to God ; and, in 
the second place, Set before you the ad- 
vantages which accompany such an ap- 
proach. 

I am, in the first place, then, To ex- 
plain the nature of that, approach which 
the devout make to God. 

This earth is not the native region of 
that spirit which is in man. It finds not 
objects here congenial with its nature, nor 
a sphere adequate to its faculties. It 
wants room to expand to its full dimen- 
sions ; to spread so wide, and stretch so 
far, and soar so high, as its immortal na- 
ture and unbounded capacity will admit. 
Descended from heaven, it aspires to hea- 
ven again. Created immortal, nothing 
that is mortal can satisfy its desires. 
Made after the image of God, it tends t©- 
that God whose lineaments it still bears.. 
When we approach to God, therefore, we 
find objects suited to our nature, and en- 
gage in the employment for which the 
soul was made. Here we are at home in 
our Father's house. Here our spirits as- 
pire to hold communion with the everlast- 
ing Spirit ; and we tend to heaven with 
exceeding joy, as to our native country. 

The sense of Deity is akin to the percep- 
tion of beauty and the sensibility of taste. 
We are formed by the author of our na- 
ture to feel certain movements of mind at 
the sight of certain objects. Even inani- 
mate things are not without their attrac- 
tions. The flowers of the field have their 
beauty. Animal life rises in our regard. 
Rational excellence and moral perfection, 



66 



SERMON XIII. 



rank still higher in our esteem, and when 
expressed in action, and appearing in life, 
awake emotions of the noblest kind, and 
beget a pleasure which is supreme. Let 
any person of a right constituted mind 
place before his view a character of high 
eminence for generosity, fidelity, forti- 
tude; let him see these virtues tried to 
the utmost, exerted in painful struggles, 
overcoming difficulties, and conquering in 
a glorious cause, and. he will feel their ef- 
fects in his admiring mind ; he will be ac- 
tuated with respect and love to such illus- 
trious virtues. . We account that faculty 
of the mind which gives us a relish for 
these pleasures, a perfection in our nature, 
and a high one ; we look upon an insen- 
sibility to such enjoyments as a radical 
defect. Let us apply this principle to 
religion. Who can behold the vastness 
and magnificence of the works of God 
without emotion ; and infinite perfection 
without wonder and awe ? Can our 
thoughts be fixed upon infinite goodness 
and everlasting love, without affection and 
without gratitude ? Can we behold Divi- 
nity in a form of flesh; the Son of God 
extended on the cross for the salvation of 
the world, and our hearts not burn within 
us with love to him who loved us unto the 
death ? Can we behold the veil drawn 
aside from the invisible world, the hea- 
vens opened over our head, and the trea- 
sures of eternity displayed to view, and 
after all continue cold and dead ; cold to 
the beauty of the heavens, dead to the 
love of immortality ? Where there is any 
sensibility at all, where there are any af- 
fections that become humanity, they will 
be excited to their most lively exercise 
by the presence of spiritual and divine 
things. 

Under the influence of these objects, 
and the impression of Deity, the devout 
enter into their chamber and shut the 
door ; they turn aside their eyes from be- 
holding vanity ; they charge their passions 
to be silent, their minds to be still ; and 
pour out their hearts to Him who made 
them, in all the fervency of prayer. Thus 
prepared to seek the Lord God of their 
fathers, they come to his temple to meet 
with him there. They are seized with a 
religious awe in the presence of the sanc- 
tuary, and approach to the altar wonder- 



ing and adoring, as Moses to the burning 
bush, and as the High Priest of old to 
the holy of holies. They look beyond the 
externals of a sacrament, and, under the 
symbols in the communion, they discern 
the mysteries of redeeming love. Not- 
withstanding the veil with which a greater 
than Moses covers himself on this holy 
mountain, they behold his beauty, and 
cannot bear the brightness of his counte- 
nance. When they sit down with him at 
his table, they are sensible of his pre- 
sence : while their hands receive the 
sacred symbols, their eyes behold the 
Lord of G-lory. In the spirit of devotion, 
and on the wings of faith, they rise from 
earth to heaven ; they pierce beyond the 
clouds, and enter within the veil. The 
everlasting doors are thrown open; the 
King of Glory appears upon his throne ; 
Angels and Archangels cover themselves 
with their wings, and all the pillars of the 
firmament tremble. 

But not to heaven is the Divinity 
confined. He fills the earth; he dwells 
with men. Look around you, and behold 
the marks of his presence, and the impres- 
sion of his hand. In the gay and lovely 
scenes of nature, behold him in his beauty 
smiling on his works. In the grand and 
awful objects of creation, in the tempest, 
in the thunder, in the earthquake, behold 
him in the Majesty of. Omnipotence. 
When, like the prophet who retired to 
the wilderness, you hear that voice which 
rends asunder the mountains, which breaks 
in pieces the rocks, and which shakes the 
pillars of the world, you hear behind it 
a still small voice, saying, " It is I, be not 
afraid." 

Thus, good men see the Creator in his 
works ; they have the Lord always before 
them. They know where they can find 
him, and can come nigh to his seat. They 
go forward and he is there, backward, and 
they perceive his footsteps ; on the right 
hand his wonders are seen; on the left 
his goodness is felt. They cannot go but 
where he is. The Great Universe is the 
temple of the Deity, built by his hands, 
consecrated by his presence, bright with 
his glory. 

The second thing proposed, was, To set 
before you the advantages which accom- 
pany this solemn approach to God, which 



ON THE CELEBRATION 



OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



67 



are the following: there is honor in ap- 
proaching to God, there is joy in approach- 
ing to Sod, there is consolation in ap- 
proaching to God, there is preparation 
for heaven in approaching to God. 

First, then, There is honor in approach- 
ing to God. The superiority of man to 
the animal world has been inferred from 
the structure and formation of his body. 
While the inferior animals, prone and 
grovelling, bend downwards to that earth 
which is their only element, man is formed 
with an erect figure, and with a counte- 
nance that looks to the heavens. His 
erect figure is given as the indication of 
an elevated mind, and the countenance 
that looks to the heavens is bestowed, 
in order to prepare us for the contem- 
plation of what is great and glorious. 
With this formation of body, and with 
this tendency of mind, man feels that 
the earth is not his native region ; he 
looks abroad over the whole extent of 
nature ; he has an eye that glances from 
earth to heaven, and a mind, which, un- 
confined by space or time, seizes on eter- 
nity. The eye that glances from earth 
to heaven, the mind which seizes on eter- 
nity, draw the line between the intellect- 
ual and animal world. The beast of the 
field, indeed, beholds the face of the 
heavens; the bird of the air is cheered 
with the splendor of the sun ; but man 
alone has the intellectual eye, which be- 
holds in the heavens the handiwork of 
Omnipotence, and which traces in the sun 
the glory of its Creator. To him, high- 
favored of his Maker, a scene opens, un- 
seen by the eye of sense ; a new heaven 
and a new earth present themselves; the 
intellectual world discloses its/tising won- 
ders, and seen by his own light, in the 
majesty of moral perfection, God appears. 
It was reserved to be the glory of man, 
that he alone, of all the inhabitants of 
this lower world, should be admitted into 
the presence of his Creator, and hold in- 
tercourse with the Author of his being. 

Accordingly, in the happy days of the 
human race, when the age of innocence 
lasted, and the Garden of Eden bloomed, 
there was an intercourse between heaven 
and earth, and God did dwell with man. 
Our first parents in Paradise were sen- 
sible of his presence ; they heard his voice 



among the trees of the garden ; they held 
converse with him face to face, and found 
that the chief honor of their nature con- 
sisted in drawing nigh to God. Nay, it 
is the happiness of higher natures, it is 
the glory of superior beings, of the prin- 
cipalities and powers in heaven, to dwell 
in the presence of their King, to worship 
at the throne of infinite perfection, and 
draw nearer and nearer to the fountain 
of all felicity. But this honor have all 
the saints. To thee, 0 Christian! it is 
given to hold communion with the Crea- 
tor, and to become the friend of the Al- 
mighty. Truly your fellowship is with 
the Father, and his Son Jesus Christ. 
If it be great and honoiable to be near 
the person and round the throne of an 
earthly king, how truly glorious are they 
whom the King of heaven delighteth to 
honor ! No wonder then, that though ex- 
alted to the highest dignity which the 
world can bestow, the king of Israel was 
ambitious of higher still : " One thing 
have I desired of the Lord, that will I 
seek after, that I may dwell in the house 
of the Lord all the days of my life, to 
behold the beauty of the Lord, and to 
inquire in his temple." 

Secondly, There is joy in approaching 
to God. " I will go to the altar of God, 
to God my exceeding joy." The idea of 
a perfect being is the most joyful subject 
of contemplation that can be presented to 
man. Moral qualities, even when they 
shine in a lesser degree, have a charm for 
the soul. The prospect of natural beauty 
is not more pleasant to the eye, than the 
contemplation of moral beauty to the mind. 
A great and good action, a striking in- 
stance of benevolence, of public spirit, of 
magnanimity, interests us strongly in be- 
half of the performer, and makes the heart 
glow with gratitude to him, although he 
be unknown. We take delight in placing 
before our eyes the illustrious characters 
that stand forth in history, wise legisla- 
tors, unshaken patriots, public benefactors 
of mankind, or models of goodness in pri- 
vate life, whose virtues shone to the past, 
and shine to present times, whose lives 
were glorious to themselves, and beneficial 
to the world. If an imperfect copy gives 
so much satisfaction, how will we be affected 
at the contemplation of the great Original ? 



68 



SERMON XIII. 



If a few faint traces and lineaments of 
goodness, scattered up and down, yield us 
so much pleasure, the pleasure will be su- 
preme, when we contemplate His nature 
in whom every excellence, every moral 
perfection, all Divine attributes, reside as 
in their native seat, flow as from their eter- 
nal source, and ever operate as vital and 
immortal principles. For all created 
beauty is but a shadow of that beauty 
which is uncreated ; all human excellence 
but an emanation of that excellence which 
is Divine ; all finite perfection but a faint 
copy of perfections which are infinite ; and 
all the traces of goodness to be found 
among men or angels, but a few faint rays 
from the Father of lights, the uncreated, 
unclouded and unsetting Sun of nature, 
who at first gave life to the universe, who 
kindled the vital flame which is still glow- 
ing, who supplies all the orbs of heaven 
with undiminished lustre, and whose sin- 
gle smile spreads joy over the moral 
world. 

Thus, the very idea of a perfect Being 
is a source of high pleasure to the mind ; 
but to us there is more implied in the 
idea of the Deity. For these perfections 
are not dormant in the Divine nature, they 
are perpetually employed for the happi- 
ness of man. This glorious Being is our 
Father and our Friend. He called us in- 
to being at first, to make us happy ; he 
hath given us many proofs of his goodness, 
and he hath allowed us to hope for more. 
He is soon to give us an opportunity of 
commemorating the most signal display of 
his grace, his noblest gift to the children 
of men. And, if he spared not his own 
Son, but freely gave him up to the death 
for us all, may it not be depended upon, 
that with him he will give us all things ? 
Entering into these ideas, and animated 
with this spirit, the pious man is never so 
much in his element, as when he is draw- 
ing nigh to God. The mind never makes 
nobler exertions, is never so conscious 
of its native grandeur and ancient dignity, 
as when holding high converse with its 
Creator : the heart never feels such un- 
speakable peace, as when it is fixed upon 
him who made it, as when its affections go 
out on the supreme beauty, as when it 
rests upon the Rock of ages, and is held 
within "the circle of the everlasting arms. 



Hence, the good men of old, in ap- 
proaching to God, broke forth into the 
language of rapture, " As the hart panteth 
after the water-brook, so panteth my soul 
after thee, 0 Lord. 0 God, thou art my 
God, early will I seek thee. My soul 
thirsteth for thee. My flesh longeth for 
thee in a dry and parched land, wherein 
no water is ; that I may see thy glory as I 
have seen it in the sanctuary. Because 
thy loving-kindness is better than life, my 
mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips. 
Surely we shall be satisfied with the 
goodness of thy house, and thou wilt give 
us to drink the river of thy pleasures. — 
Whom have we in the heavens but thee, 
and what is there upon the earth that we 
can desire beside thee ? My flesh and 
heart shall fail, but thou art the strength 
of my heart, and my portion for ever." 

Thirdly, There is consolation in ap- 
proaching to God. Alas ! in this world, 
afflictions so abound, that consolation is 
often our greatest good. In how few 
days of this mortal life do we not feel the 
want of a comforter ? Ever since the in- 
troduction of sin into the earth, human 
life hath been a scene of misery. Man is 
born to trouble, and sore is the travel 
which is appointed to him under the sun. 
We come into the world the most forlorn 
of all beings ; the voice of sorrow is heard 
from the birth ; man sighs on through 
every path of future life ; and the grave is 
the only place of refuge, where the weary 
are at rest. Sometimes, indeed, a gleam 
of joy intervenes, an interval of happiness 
takes place. Fond man indulges the fa- 
vorable hour. Then we promise to our- 
selves the scenes of paradise ; perpetual 
sunshine, and days without a cloud. But 
the brightness only shines to disappear ; 
the cloud comes again, and we awake to 
our wonted anxiety and sorrow. 

Not limited to our own personal woes 
we are doomed to suffer for sorrows not 
our own. We are not unconcerned spec- 
tators of human life. We are interested 
in every event that befalls our fellow men. 
Sympathy makes us feel the distresses of 
others, and the best affections of the heart 
become the sources of woe. How many 
deaths do we suffer in mourning over the 
friends that we have lost ! While we la- 
ment their unhappy or untimely fate, we 



ON THE CELEBRATION OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



69 



cut short the thread of Our own days. The 
cords of love are broken, one after another; 
string after string is severed from the 
heart, till all our early attachments are 
dissolved, till our sad eyes have wept over 
every friend laid in the dust, and till we 
become lonely and wretched as we at first 
began. 

Under these afflictions, and from these 
sorrows, devotion opens a retreat ; the 
altar of God presents a place of refuge ; 
the ear of the Eternal is open to thy cry ; 
the arm of the Almighty is stretched out 
to relieve thee. There is a sanctuary 
where no evil can approach; there is an 
asylum where no enemy can enter. In the 
pavilion of his presence, God will hide 
thee in the time of trouble ; in the secret 
of his tabernacle, he will cover thee in the 
day of danger. There the prisoners rest 
in peace, and hear not the voice of the op- 
pressor. There are the small and the 
great, and the servant is free from his 
master. There the wicked cease from 
troubling, and the weary are at rest. 

It is some consolation, it is some relief, 
to open our hearts to men, and tell our 
sorrows to a friend, who can give us no 
relief, but by mingling his tears with ours. 
Wha£ consolation, what relief will it then 
give to open our hearts, and tell our sor- 
rows to that Friend above, who is ever 
gracious to hear, and ever mighty to save ! 
To that friend who never fails ; who is af- 
flicted in all our afflictions, and who keeps 
us as the apple of his eye ! Art thou 
therefore oppressed with the calamities of 
life ; is thy head bowed down with afflic- 
tion, or thy heart broken with sorrow ? 
approach to the altar, go to God, present 
to him the prayer of thy heart, and he 
will send thee help from his holy hill. 

Lastly, In approaching to God, there 
is preparation for heaven. The objects 
among which we are conversant, have a 
wonderful power over the mind. Exter- 
nal things make such an impression with- 
in, that the character is often formed from 
the situation. The soul is assimilated to 
surrounding objects, and proportions it- 
self to the sphere in which it moves. 
When employed in little and in low things, 
it is contracted ; when occupied in earthly 
matters, it is debased; but acquires en- 
largement and elevation in the presence 



of what is grand and sublime. By daily 
converse with the world, and familiarity 
with material things, the soul is alienated 
from the life of God, and man, setting his 
affections on things below, becomes of the 
earth, earthy. But when we engage 
in the exercises of devotion, we counter- 
work the charm of material objects, we 
retire from the world and its temptations, 
and shut the door of the heart against 
every intruding guest that would disturb 
us in approaching to God. Standing upon 
holy ground, we put off unhallowed affec- 
tions, and impure desires. From the pre- 
sence of the Lord every sinful thought 
flies away. Our attention is turned from 
those things that would raise guilty pas- 
sions in the mind. Pure and spiritual 
ideas are presented to view, and the per- 
fections of Almighty God, are set before 
our eyes. TV hen these are before us, our 
admiration of them will increase, our love 
to them will be kindled, and we will en- 
deavor to resemble them in our own life. 
Thus, by approaching to God, we become 
like God. By devotion on earth, we an- 
ticipate the work of heaven. We join 
ourselves, beforehand, to the society of 
angels and blessed spirits above ; we al- 
ready enter on the delightful employment 
of eternity, and begin the song which is 
heard for ever around the throne of God. 

Such, Christians ! are the advantages 
of approaching to God, and encompassing 
the altar. And if, with pious affections, 
and a pure heart, we draw nigh unto God, 
God will draw nigh unto us. To the 
wide extent of bis creation, to the great 
temple of heaven and earth, Jehovah pre- 
fers the heart of the pure and the pious. 
There he takes up his abode : where he 
delighteth to dwell. In the divine dis- 
course which our Lord delivered to his 
diciples, the same night in which he was 
betrayed, there is a promise rich in con- 
solation. " If a man love me, he will 
keep my words : and my Father will love 
him, and we will come and make our 
abode with him." While this promise 
sounds in your ears, I hope that your 
hearts correspond to the strain, and that 
you recall those precious hours when God 
manifested himself to you, so as he does 
not unto the world. When on former oc- 
casions, he sent his light and his truth ; 



70 



SERMON XIV. 



when the fountain of living waters has 
been opened, and the voice came to your 
ears, " Drink, and live for ever ;" Did you 
not feel emotions which came from no 
created source, and taste a joy which con- 
fessed its origin from heaven ? Who can 
describe the blessedness of that time, when 
a present Deity is felt ? It is the joy of 
heaven upon earth ; the happiness of eter- 
nity in the moments of time. 



SERMON XIV. 

THE GOSPEL A SYSTEM OF SPIRITUAL JOY. 

Luke n. 10. — "Behold, I bring you good tid- 
ings of great joy." 

The coming of the Messiah is always 
foretold in scripture as a period of joy and 
triumph. The Patriarchs rejoiced when 
they saw his day afar off. All the Pro- 
phets take fire at this great occasion, and 
rise into the strains of rapture when they 
describe the glory of the latter days, and 
the happiness of the Messiah's reign. In 
the most beautiful colors they paint its 
arrival as a new era of happy time, and 
as a general jubilee to the world. They 
represent it as accompanied with universal 
peace and prosperity; as effecting a re- 
novation of nature, the return of innocence 
to earth, and the descent of God to dwell 
with men. li In those days the wilderness 
and the solitary place shall be glad ; the 
desert shall rejoice and blossom like the 
rose. They shall blossom abundantly: 
and rejoice with joy and with singing. 
The glory of Lebanon shall be given 
unto it ; the excellency of Carmel and of 
Sharon. The parched ground shall be- 
come a pool, and the dry land springs 
of water. In the wilderness shall waters 
break out, and streams in the desert. 
The light of the moon shall be as the 
light of the sun, and the light of the sun 
shall be sevenfold." When the heavens 
and the earth at first arose in beauty from 
the hands of the Creator, the morning 
stars sang together, and all the sons of 
God shouted for joy. In like manner, 
when these new heavens and this new earth 



appeared, all the angelic host broke forth 
into strains of gratulation, ascribing glory 
to God in the highest, peace on earth, and 
good- will towards fallen men. 

Unhappily, the Jews, who were a gross 
and carnal people, misinterpreted the 
prophecies concerning the kingdom of the 
Messiah, took the magnificent style of 
prophecy for literal description, and 
fondly imagined that these glad tidings 
of great joy announced temporal and 
earthly blessings. They looked for no bet- 
ter a country than the land of Canaan, 
and expected no other redemption than 
to be redeemed from the Roman yoke. 
The veil is now taken off from the Pro- 
phets, and we discern the Gospel, not as 
meant to procure us possession of the 
earth, and dominion over the nations, but 
as intended to make us partakers of eter- 
nal life, and to give us an inheritance in 
the heavens, which is incorruptible, unde- 
fined, and fadeth not away. 

The Gospel, then, is a system of spirit- 
ual joy. And, in treating of it in this 
light, I shall, in the first place, consider 
it as a method of instruction, enlighten- 
ing the darkness, and dispelling the igno- 
rance of human nature : In the second 
place, As a plan of redemption from the 
guilt of sin : In the third place, As a 
scheme of comfort and relief during the 
afflictions of life ; and, in th.e fourth place, 
As a system of consolation against the fear 
of death. Here are comprehended all the 
evils of human life; and if we find that the 
Gospel brings us relief from all of them, 
then it will appear to contain, indeed, 
" Good tidings of great joy." 

I am to show you, then, in the first 
place, That, as a system of joy, Chris- 
tianity enlightens the natural darkness of 
the mind, and gives us all requisite in- 
formation concerning the truths necessary 
to our happiness. 

Curiosity, or the desire of knowledge, is 
one of the earliest emotions of the human 
soul. No sooner does the mind arrive at 
the exercise of thought, than it proceeds 
to examine the objects around it, and to 
extend its researches wider and wider over 
the whole circuit of nature. One of the 
most obvious dictates of reason is the belief 
of a God. There are so many indications 
of wisdom and contrivance in the works of 



THE GOSPEL A SYSTEM OF SPIRITUAL JOY. 



71 



nature; such striking displays of order 
and beauty ; such splendid demonstra- 
tions of a plan established, that an intel- 
ligent Mind is at once recognized, and a 
Deity, though invisible in himself, is every 
where seen in his works. Accordingly, 
all nations have agreed in acknowledging 
and worshipping a supreme Power, the 
Creator and Governor of all things. But 
although the light of nature reveals to us 
the existence of a God, it gives us no mate- 
rials whereon to form an opinion concern- 
ing his attributes. A mixed dispensation 
of things seems to prevail in the world. 
There are many indications of goodness, 
but there are also many appearances of 
evil. Providence seems equally to favor 
the good and the bad. All things come 
alike to all, and there is one event to the 
righteous and to the wicked. Reason is 
at a loss what conclusion to draw from 
such contradictory appearances, and amidst 
the clouds and the darkness that surround 
the paths of the Almighty, cannot discern 
that justice and judgment are for ever the 
habitation of his throne. But a state of 
uncertainty and suspense, especially about 
an object of such great importance, is the 
most deplorable of all situations. To live 
and to die in ignorance and uncertainty, 
whether the Governor of the world be a 
tyrant or a friend, or whether we are un- 
der the misrule of hate, or the govern- 
ment of love, must sit heavy upon the 
candid and inquisitive mind, and give ad- 
ditional smart to all the sorrows which 
embitter human life. What beams of joy 
will break in upon such benighted minds, 
when the Sun of Righteousness appearing, 
scatters the clouds of ignorance and error, 
and lets in the pure light of l^eaven upon 
the darkness of the human condition ? To 
make the discoveries of the Gospel to such 
persons, is to reveal to them a father and 
a friend. To discover that God is love ; 
that he is a God in Christ reconciling 
the world unto himself; that he adminis- 
ters the affairs of the universe so as to 
issue in the general good ; that he is for ever 
employing the attributes of his nature, his 
infinite wisdom, his boundless goodness, 
and his Almighty power A to favor the 
cause of righteousness, and to promote the 
happiness of the good throughout the 
whole creation. Such views of Deity as 



these fill the mind with joy and with con- 
solation. The weary traveller has now 
got a shelter from the storm. He has 
found a sanctuary in the time of trouble ; 
and he looks to the heavens from whence 
cometh his aid. The heart is fully at ease 
while it rests on him that made it, and re- 
poses with perfect peace under the protec- 
tion of the everlasting arms. 

Further, Man in a state of nature is 
equally ignorant concerning himself. He 
finds himself here a stranger in a wide 
world, where the powers and operations 
of nature are very imperfectly known ; 
where both the causes and the issues of 
things are wrapt up in much darkness, 
and where he can only form uncertain con- 
jectures from whence he comes, for what 
purpose he was brought into being, and 
whither he is to go when he departs from 
hence. If he looks back to his origin, he 
is lost in uncertainty. Born to be at the 
head of the inferior creation, and to be the 
masterpiece of the Almighty in this lower 
world, he hath at the same time appetites 
and passions, the abuse of which degrades 
him below the level of the brutes that 
perish. His dignity and his meanness ; 
the excellence of his frame, and the de- 
generacy of his nature ; the elevation of 
his understanding, and the corruption of 
his heart, form a contrast which the phi- 
losophy of ages could never reconcile. 
How could such a creature come into the 
world ? If he be the work of a wise and 
good being, whence come the seeds of evil 
that are latent in his heart ? If he be the 
production of malignant beings, whence 
the seeds of goodness, and the lineaments 
of heaven, which, however obscured, are to 
be found in his frame ? Whatever sup- 
position we take, we are beset with insu- 
perable difficulties. But, change the scene, 
and look forward to his future lot, and he 
is still more distressed and forlorn. He 
sees his friends and companions, one after 
another, continually disappearing. But 
whither do they go when they depart ? 
Have they withdrawn into everlasting 
darkness, or do they still act in another 
scene? Is the beam of heaven for ever 
extinguished ? Is the celestial fire which 
glowed in their hearts for ever quenched, 
and naught but ashes left to mingle with 
the earth, and be blown around the world % 



72 



SERMON XIV. 



Are their hopes limited to this life ? Or, 
beyond the horizon which terminates their 
present prospects, does a more beautiful 
and a more perfect scene present itself, 
where the wicked shall cease from trou- 
bling, and where the weary shall be at 
rest % If we consult our affections, we 
shall be inclined to believe in a future 
state. Nature is loath to quit its hold. 
The heart still wishes to be kind to the 
friends whom once it loved. Imagination 
takes the hint, and indulges us with the 
pleasant hopes of one day meeting again 
the companions which we dropped in life. 
The perfections of the Deity also favor 
these wishes of nature. If God be infi- 
nitely wise and infinitely good, he would 
not have brought us into being only to see 
the light, and to depart for ever. Would 
a wise builder have erected such a noble 
structure, to last but for a moment ? On 
the other hand, if we consult the analogy 
of nature, the horrors of annihilation sur- 
round us. The leaf that falls from the 
tree revives no more. The animal that 
mingles with the earth never rises to life 
again. 

These doubts and horrors are now re- 
moved, and this darkness destroyed, by 
the gospel of Christ. No sooner did the 
day-spring arise from on high, but it be- 
came a light to lighten the Gentiles, and 
extended its radiance over the region and 
shadow of death. The nature of man is 
now unfolded, the origin of evil accounted 
for, and life and immortality brought to 
light. Our Saviour did not propose these 
doctrines as the controvertible opinions of 
a private man : he taught them with the 
authority of God. Of his peculiar doc- 
trines he gave us a proof in kind. Did he 
teach that the dead were to arise ? As 
an infallible confirmation of it, he himself 
arose from the dead. The good man need 
not now be in anxiety about his future ex- 
istence. Come and behold the place where 
the Lord lay. Come and behold the place 
from which the Lord arose. You do not 
mourn as those who have no hope. You 
commit the bodies of your deceased friends 
to the grave in the hopes of a blessed re- 
surrection. For we know that our Re- 
deemer liveth, and we know that we shall 
in like manner revive. The sound of the 
last trumpet shall pierce even the caverns 



of the tomb ; the dead shall hear the voice 
of the Son of God : the celestial fire shall 
again reanimate these ashes, and a glo- 
rious body spring forth from the bosom of 
corruption. What a source of consolation 
does this open to us in all the afflictions of 
life ? Can that man despond and sink 
under the evils of life, who has the pros- 
pect of a blessed resurrection and a happy 
immortality ? 

It has been thus endeavored to show 
you the advantages that we derive from 
Christianity, in point of instruction. It 
was never my intention to exalt revelation 
at the expense of reason, or to establish 
Christianity upon the ruins of natural re- 
ligion. The light of nature affords us 
many discoveries, and the religion of na- 
ture suggests many obligations to virtue. 
The heathens reasoned well concerning the 
existence of a supreme cause ; from the 
things which are seen, they inferred his 
eternal power and Godhead, and gave 
many excellent lessons for the conduct of 
human life. But their discoveries had not 
the authority of uncontroverted truth, and 
their precepts wanted the obligation of 
laws. They were the private opinions of 
mere men, who had no commission to 
enact articles of faith, and who had no 
authority to establish laws for the conduct 
of human life. Their discoveries did not 
even carry conviction to their own minds. 
They doubted concerning points the most 
important and the most essential to the 
happiness of a rational mind. If, from 
the order and beauty of the natural world, 
they inferred the existence and the power 
of God ; from the irregularities and evils 
of the moral world, they were led to doubt 
concerning his wisdom and goodness. The 
immortality of the soul was rather the ob- 
ject of their wishes, than of their firm 
belief. The law of nature, amidst the 
multiplicity of vicious and criminal cus- 1 
toms, was almost totally obliterated. The 
sense of moral good and evil, amidst the 
universal degeneracy and depravity of 
manners, was in danger of being altogether 
lost. So general, so gross was the dark- 
ness which long involved the nations, so 
deep and thick did the cloud sit over the 
moral world, that the wisest of the ancient 
philosophers thought it was a necessary 
step in the Deity, in order to ascertain his 



THE GOSPEL A SYSTEM OF SPIRITUAL JOY. 



73 



perfections, and vindicate his ways to men, 
that a prophet should descend from hea- 
ven, clothed with a divine commission, to 
make a revelation of the Divine will. 

But they labored under a difficulty still 
more dreadful than ignorance, that was, a 
sense of guilt. This leads us to the second 
head of discourse, To consider the gospel 
as a plan of redemption from the guilt of 
sin. 

When the sins of a criminal life rose up 
before them, horror of conscience over- 
whelmed them. Unenlightened nature 
presented nothing to their eye but an of- 
fended Judge, arrayed in all his terrors. 
The violated law called aloud for repara- 
tion. Justice unsheathed her naming 
sword. The mercy of the Judge was al- 
together unknown. All was darkness and 
dismay, without one beam of hope. It was 
in this dreadful dilemma that, in order to 
appease the wrath of the incensed Deity, 
they had recourse to sacrifices and to the 
shedding of so much blood. It was this 
that drove them to violate the strongest 
and most sacred laws of nature ; drove 
them to torture their own flesh before the 
shrine of the offended God, and terrible 
to tell, drove them — drove the tender 
parent to take his son, his first-born son, 
and, with his own trembling hands, to shed 
his blood as a ransom for his soul ! The 
grand inquiry of the heathen world was 
that with which the prophet Micah intro- 
duces the king of Moab, " Wherewith 
shall I come before the Lord, and bow 
myself before the High God 1 " 

As a sense of moral good and evil is 
implanted in the mind, and as a principle 
of conscience, condemning sin and approv- 
ing righteousness, is universally felt, we 
see and we feel, by sad experience, that 
all men have sinned, have come short of 
the glory of God, and that, without an 
atonement, there could be neither joy nor 
peace in the heart of man. 

Further, It was necessary that, in this 
atonement, provision should be made for 
delivering men from the state of degen- 
eracy and imperfection, that they might 
not again fall into deadly sin, and stand 
in need of a new atonement. In conse- 
quence of that original corruption derived 
to us from our first parents, our nature is 
degenerated, and our moral abilities im- 



paired so, that no man can yield perfect 
obedience to the law of God. It would 
therefore be of little consequence to blot 
out our transgressions for the time past, 
unless we were also to be delivered from 
the dominion of sin in the time to come. To 
be always falling into sin. to be always 
standing in need of new acts of indemnity 
and forgiveness, is neither consistent with 
the dignity of the divine government, nor 
with the perfection of a rational and im- 
mortal nature. Accordingly, the great 
atonement proposed in the gospel, not 
only provides for our redemption from the 
wrath to come, but also for our restora- 
tion to the image of God. From the cross 
of Christ, virtue flows to the world, and 
healing to the nations. In consequence of 
his sufferings and death, our Saviour is 
now ascended to the right hand of the 
Majesty in the heavens, to administer the 
affairs of his kingdom, and dispense the 
treasures of the new covenant. He re- 
tains our nature, and represents our per- 
sons in the presence of God, and makes 
intercession with the Father in our be- 
half. He sends down his sanctifying 
Spirit to repair the ruins of our nature ; 
to create in us the clean heart ; to renew 
within us the right spirit ; to lead us on 
from grace to grace, and from strength to 
strength, till we perfect holiness in the 
fear of the Lord. Having thus recovered 
the original honor of our frame, and be- 
ing restored to the image of God, he 
translates us to the mansions of immor- 
tality above, where these good tidings of 
great joy are a subject of praise amidst 
an innumerable company of angels, and 
the spirits of just men made perfect. 

We proceed to the third general head 
of discourse, To consider the gospel as a 
scheme of comfort and relief during the 
afflictions of life. 

Ever since the introduction of sin into 
the world, human life hath been a scene 
of misery. Man that is born of a woman 
is of few days ; and few as they are, they 
are full of trouble. He is doomed to suf- 
fer from the womb. When he comes into 
the world, he enters on a state of pain ; 
and from the cradle to the grave, his life 
is a pilgrimage of sorrow. Where is the 
kingdom ; where is the city ; where is the 
family; where is the individual that is 



74 



SERMON XIV. 



exempted from affliction ? It enters the 
palaces of the great, as well as the cot- 
tages of the low ; it invades the throne 
of the king, as well as the hut of the pea- 
sant; and scarce are the sanctuaries and 
the altars of the Lord asylums against its 
approach. The calamities of life are al- 
ways great ; but when the mind is under 
the impression of melancholy, and bleeds 
from recent sorrow, then are they felt in 
extreme. The cloud sits deep upon the 
face of things ; the prospect before us is 
dark and lurid ; and the mind, if not sup- 
ported, would sink under its woes. It is 
the great excellence, my brethren, of the 
Christian religion, that it abounds with 
consolations in all the evils of life. To 
the upright, says the Scripture, light shall 
arise in the midst of darkness. Those 
who are weary and heavy laden with their 
woes, if they come to Christ, he will give 
them rest. 

The first consolation which the gospel 
proposes to us, is, That there is a par- 
ticular Providence which watches over hu- 
man affairs. It is part of the glad tidings 
revealed to us in the gospel, that the Lord 
Grod omnipotent reigneth ; that although 
his throne be in the heavens, and though 
the heaven of heavens cannot contain him, 
yet he condescends to visit the earth, to 
take up his abode and dwell with men. 
He who counts the number of the stars, 
numbers also the hairs of our head ; a 
sparrow cannot fall to the ground without 
the will of our heavenly Father. The 
most ordinary, as well as the most casual 
events, are under the direction of that arm 
which reaches from heaven to earth. Ever 
watching over the world, there is an eye 
above, which slumbers not nor sleeps. 
The archer may draw the bow at a ven- 
ture; but the arrow is directed by an 
higher hand. This will administer relief 
to the mind in all the afflictions of life. 
Trusting to the providence of Grod, the 
devout mind will rest in hope, and break 
forth into joy, " The Lord reigneth, let 
the earth be glad ; the Lord reigneth, let 
the multitude of the isles rejoice. His 
kingdom ruleth over all, and he will make 
all things co-operate for the good of those 
who love him." Shall not I therefore trust 
in him who is ever present to help me in 
time of need ? Are not these perfections, 



which are equal to the government of the 
whole system of nature, more than suffi- 
cient to direct my little concerns ? My 
G-od is a present help in time of trouble. 
He is not far off when grief is near, nor 
like an absent friend to the distressed. 
Let the darkness of the tempest surround 
me ; let the winds blow, and the waves 
rage, I have an interest in the Ruler of 
the storm ; I have an interest in him who 
can say to the winds " cease," and to the 
waves " be still." 

In the next place, afflictions take their 
rise, not from the wrath, but from the love 
of God. Did we believe that the world 
was governed by a malignant being, who 
made sport of human misery, and took a 
malicious pleasure in punishing his crea- 
tures ; did we consider ourselves as under 
the dominion of hatred, as objects of the 
Divine vengeance, and pursued by the 
Almighty as victims devoted to perdition, 
such thoughts would make us miserable 
indeed. They would sharpen the arrows 
of adversity, and mingle poison into the 
bitter cup which we are doomed to drink. 
Then might we cry out with Job, in the 
hour of despair, " 1 will speak in the 
anguish of my spirit, I will complain in 
the bitterness of my soul. The terrors of 
the Lord set themselves in array against 
me. The arrows of the Almighty are 
within me, the poison whereof drinketh 
up my spirit. Why hast thou set me as 
a mark against thee ? My soul chooseth 
strangling and death rather than life." 
These doubts and terrors are now re- 
moved. Fear not, 0 man ! who strug- 
glest under the adversities of life, I bring 
you good tidings of great joy ; the afflic- 
tions which thou endurest are not the 
stripes of an hard master, who seeks thy 
destruction ; they are the chastisements 
of a kind father, who punishes only to re- 
form. The God of love has no pleasure 
in the misery, or in the death of his crea- 
tures. His eye overflows with pity 
whilst his hand is lifted up to strike. 
Whilst he bruises, he binds up the wound. 
This surely will administer consolations 
to the wounded in mind, and speak peace 
to the broken in heart, when they reflect 
that the evils in their lot are a part of 
His providence, who doth not afflict wil- 
lingly, nor grieve the children of men 



THE GOSPEL A SYSTEM OF SPIRITUAL JOY. 



75 



that they are not marks of his wrath, but 
indications of his love. 

Further, as a consolation to the afflicted 
and distressed, Christianity assures us, 
that the various occurrences in human 
life are not accidental, nor detached events, 
but parts of a great plan that was con- 
certed in the councils of Heaven before 
the world began, and is going on from age 
to age. If the moral world were a chaos 
without form, and void of order ; if every 
event in life was separate, unconnected 
and final, men, under the pressure of afflic- 
tion, would often have occasion to com- 
plain. But, when we take in the dis- 
coveries of revelation, and behold a general 
order of things established, and a great 
plan going on ; when we consider that 
every particular event is a part of the 
great system of Providence, and conduces 
to form a perfect whole ; when we call to 
mind that no part of our life is an ulti- 
mate event, but has a reference to a future 
state, and is only the means to an end, we 
will acquiesce in the established order of 
nature, and follow on, active and cheerful, 
wherever we are called by Providence. 
In the early part of our life, when we are 
under the discipline of a master, we are 
instructed in arts, and trained to exer- 
cises, of which we knew not then the 
meaning, nor the use. This life is but 
the infancy of our being, and a state of 
moral discipline for a better world ; let 
us not therefore be surprised or murmur, 
if many things fall out which seem ad- 
verse to our present good. When the 
Christian considers that the sufferings of 
the present life are connected with the en- 
joyments of heaven, and with the improve- 
ments of eternity, the unfavorable and 
hostile appearances of this world will 
vanish from his view. Familiarized to 
this grand and magnificent system of 
things, he will not complain concerning 
the conduct of Providence, nor think the 
universe in confusion when he is in dis- 
order. He does not look upon himself, as 
self-love would suggest, as a whole sepa- 
rated and detached from every other part 
of nature ; he regards himself in the light 
in which he imagines the great Spirit of 
the world regards him. He enters into 
the sentiments of the Divine Being, and 
considers himself as a particle, as an atom 



in an infinite system, which must and 
ought to be disposed of according to the 
good and the conveniency of the whole. 

Lastly, As a ground of joyful consola- 
tion to the distressed, let me remind you, 
that afflictions are not only requisite parts 
of our education for heaven, but that they 
are also necessary means of our improve- 
ment in the virtues and graces of the di- 
vine life. Adapted to the progressive and 
probationary state of fallen man, the ad- 
ministration of Providence assumes a va- 
riety of forms. Light and shade, the 
sunshine of prosperity, and the storm of 
adversity, succeed each other, and checker 
the scene of human life. In this mixed 
dispensation of suffering and enjoyment, 
the wisdom of Providence shines con- 
spicuous. Were we always to be favored 
with the smile of prosperity, and the can- 
dle of the Lord ever to shine upon our 
head, we would be apt to grow intoxicated 
with pride, to prove ungrateful to the 
Author of our being, and reserve to our- 
selves some part of that incense which we 
ought to burn upon his altars. On the 
other hand, were we always to be under 
the cloud of adversity, were Providence 
for ever to frown upon our designs, we 
would be ready to resign ourselves to de- 
spair, and cry out with the good men of 
old, "Is the mercy of Heaven clean gone ? 
Will he be favorable no more ? " This 
mixed dispensation of Providence is not 
only most favorable to religion, but is also 
best adapted to the nature of man. Man 
is made for suffering as well as for action. 
There are many principles in the human 
frame, many faculties of the mind, and 
many qualities of the heart, which would 
lie for ever latent, were they not called 
forth to action by the adversities of life. 
Man was never destined by his Maker to 
slumber on the couch of repose, and to 
bask in the sunny season: he was appointed 
to labor and to action ; to struggle with 
the tempest ; to weather the winter of 
affliction; to encounter peril; to endure 
pain, and by Christian magnanimity and 
heroism, by patience, by perseverance and 
invincible vigor, to reach the crown of 
glory which is reserved on high for all 
the sons of Grod. The afflictions of life 
present an occasion for this spirit to exert 
itself, and for these graces to appear. If 



76 



SERMON XIV. 



there were no adversities in human life, 
the scene of action would be limited, the 
career of virtue would be shortened, and 
a wide field of moral glory be lost to the 
world. Had we no trials in our lot, what 
need were there for the exercise of pa- 
tience and resignation to the Divine will, 
which form such a striking part of the 
Christian character ? Had we no afflic- 
tions to encounter, and no evils to fear, 
what occasion would there be for that 
strength of mind which enables us to brave 
the dangers of life, to bid defiance to the evil 
day, and to repose, at all times, firm and 
unshaken, upon the arm of the Almighty ? 
Were there no dangers to combat, why 
should we take unto ourselves the whole 
armor of God, the sword of the Spirit, the 
shield of faith, and the helmet of salva- 
tion ? Not only does adversity present 
the occasion of spiritual improvement, 
but has also in every age produced an host 
of saints, who, clothed with this divine ar- 
mor, have fought the good fight, and have 
come forth conquerors. You have re- 
corded to you the faith of Abraham ; you 
have recorded the meekness of Moses ; 
you have recorded the patience of Job ; 
but had it not been for the trials which 
they underwent, the dangers they had to 
combat, and the distresses they had to 
bear, their glory might have perished, and 
their names been lost in oblivion. As the 
nightingale, it is said, when bereft of her 
young, fills the woods with the music of 
woe, and from the impulse of sorrow, war- 
bles her sweetest strains ; so, from the 
wounded mind, and from the broken spirit, 
the fervor of devotion, and the eloquence 
of prayer, come up with such pathetic me- 
morial before the throne, that the Divine 
ear listens delighted. True religion, true 
virtue, brightens in distress ; she emerges 
from the deep with tenfold radiance, and 
never shines with such transcendent, such 
triumphant, such immortal beauty, as when 
wandering through the darkness of an 
eclipse. You see then, that in these paths 
you are in the company of the good, and 
are encompassed with a cloud of witnesses. 
You are not left alone to climb the ar- 
duous ascent. On these mountains, the 
feet of patriarchs, the feet of prophets, and 
the feet of martyrs, have trod. On these 



mountains, a greater than patriarchs, than 
prophets, than martyrs appeared. 

The fourth and last thing proposed, 
was, To consider Christianity as affording 
a joyful consolation against the fear of 
death. 

Many and various are the evils to which 
human life is subjected. To finish the 
mighty sum of them, and to make the 
scene end with pain, as it began with sor- 
row, comes the evil of death. The king 
of terrors, with his black train of attend- 
ants, even when seen at a distance, makes 
the firmest knee to shake, and the stoutest 
heart to tremble ; and, when exerting his 
influences upon feeble minds, and assisted 
by the power of the imagination, has kept 
multitudes all their days under the cloud of 
melancholy, and under subjection to bon- 
dage. It is the great excellence of the 
Christian Religion, that as it affords con- 
solation in all the evils of life, so it also 
provides a remedy against the fear of 
death. Hence the prophet, looking for- 
ward unto the days of the Messiah, breaks 
out into these strains of exultation : " I 
will redeem them from death : I will ran- 
som them from the power of the grave : 

0 death, I will be thy plague : 0 grave, 

1 will be thy destruction." Hence says 
the Apostle Paul, " Forasmuch as the 
children were partakers of flesh and blood, 
he himself also took part of the same, that 
he might destroy him that had the power 
of death, that is the devil, and deliver 
them who, through fear of death, were all 
their lifetime subject to bondage." 

The evils attending death to men, in a 
state of nature, are manifold. 

One of these is the uncertainty of our 
future destination. Reason gives us little 
information concerning the state of the 
soul when it departs from the body. We 
see the body mingle with its kindred ele- 
ments, and return to the dust from whence 
it was taken. But what becomes of the 
soul? Does it too cease to exist, and 
vanish into air ? Or does it still live and 
act in another scene ? Here we are lost 
in conjectures and uncertainty. We see 
the traveller involved in the cloud of 
night, but we know not assuredly of any 
morning that awaits him. The ocean 
spreads before us vast and dark, but we 



THE GOSPEL A SYSTEM OF SPIRITUAL JOY. 



77 



know not with certainty if it will waft us 
to any shore. What a disconsolate situa- 
tion of mind is this ! Afflicted with the 
view of our past life ; tormented with pres- 
ent pain ; and hovering over an abyss from 
which we are uncertain if wc shall ever 
emerge ! To pass for ever into the do- 
minion of darkness ; to go we know not 
where ! Lost in these doubts, troubled 
with the fears of futurity, the Roman Em- 
peror addressed his departing soul : " 0 
my soul, thou art leaving thy once loved 
haunts, thy former companions, and thy 
wonted joys ; but into what unknown re- 
gions and dark abodes art thou now going ? 
Alas ! thou canst not tell ! " These doubts 
and perplexities are now removed by the 
coming of Christ. When the Sun of 
Righteousness rose in our region, it dis- 
pelled the shadows of the everlasting even- 
ing ; it poured its radiance upon the path 
of immortality, and brought full to view 
the scenes of the invisible world. The 
future scenes of happiness and glory are 
not only discovered by the gospel of Je- 
sus, but are set before our eyes. In the 
inspired oracles, we hear the voice of the 
archangel and the trump of God ; we see 
the dead arising from their graves ; a 
mighty army of saints and martyrs spring- 
ing with joy from dust and corrup- 
tion. We see Jesus upon the throne, and 
the faithful at his right hand. We hear 
the happy sentence pronounced upon them, 
" Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit 
the kingdom prepared for you before the 
foundations of the world were laid." We 
see them with palms of victory in their 
hands, and with crowns of glory on their 
heads, ascending us on high with their Lord, 
and sitting down with him upon his throne. 

Another evil attending on death is 
the sense of our sins and transgressions, 
which then rising up to our memory in 
black colors, overwhelm us with horror of 
mind. But to those who receive the priv- 
ileges of Christianity, the bed of death 
will not be a scene of terror. With a faith 
which overcometh the world, they give up 
their souls into the hands of him who 
made them. " I have indeed sinned, most 
merciful Father, against Heaven and in 
thy sight. Mine iniquities compass me 
about.. I am covered with confusion, and 
condemn myself, and often have been 



afraid lest thy judgment should confirm 
the sentence of my own heart. But thou 
art merciful and gracious. Thou hast no 
pleasure in death. I am unworthy of the 
least of all thy mercies. But worthy is the 
Lamb that was slain, to receive blessing 
and glory and honor and power. In his 
death I see the price of my redemption. 
In his life I see the path which leads to 
immortality. In his resurrection I see 
the proof of my own, and evidence of my 
immortal existence. I have accepted the 
offers of thy mercy, and have endeavored 
to walk worthy of the vocation wherewith 
I was called. With whatever failings 
I may have been encompassed, thou know- 
est that it has been the study of my life 
to approve myself to thee, and to obtain 
the testimony of a good conscience. Trust- 
ing to thy mercy, and relying on the mer- 
its of my Redeemer, Father of all, I come 
to thee ! With the joy of the Patriarch, 
I follow thy call into the land unknown." 

Thus, my brethren, I have endeavored 
to set before you some of the joyful conso- 
lations derived from the Gospel of Jesus ; 
consolations which not only serve to sup- 
port and animate us under the afflictions 
of this present life, but which also enter 
within the veil, and constitute our happi- 
ness through everlasting ages. But be- 
fore I conclude, regard to my duty 
prompts me to warn and admonish you, 
that though the glad tidings of the Gos- 
pel are proclaimed to all, yet the consola- 
tions which they contain are not intended 
for, and are not conferred upon, all who 
hear the Gospel. It is only they who be- 
lieve, who repent, who reform, that will 
ever reap any solid advantage from the 
Christian religion. The profession of 
Christianity will avail us nothing. It will 
avail us nothing to say that we have faith. 
We may easily deceive ourselves, and 
make a lively imagination pass for a 
strong faith. But unless our faith puri- 
fy the heart, unless it work by love, un- 
less it produce the fruits of righteousness, 
it is no better than the faith of the devils, 
who believe and tremble. Let me there- 
fore persuade you, never so much as in 
thought, to separate ideas of faith and 
morality ; of belief in Christianity and a 
good life. If you make the attempt, you 
are undone for ever. 



78 



SERMON XV. 



SERMON XV. 

ON THE DANGER OF DELAYING REPENTANCE. 

I Cor. vi. 2. — "Behold, now is the accepted 
time ; behold, now is the day of salvation." 

There is not a man upon the earth but who 
has some sense of religion upon his mind, 
and intends one day or another to work 
out his salvation. When we look into the 
world, we find that all men are just about 
to reform. However loose in their prin- 
ciples, however profligate in their lives, 
they seriously purpose to amend their 
conduct, and the sinner of to-day resolves 
to be a saint to-morrow. Seeing then 
that all men are so favorably disposed to- 
wards religion ; seeing that all men are 
in earnest one day to repent ; how does it 
come to pass that so many men never re- 
pent ; that such multitudes live and die 
in their sins % It is because they delay 
their repentance ; it is because they put 
off the day of salvation ; because they be- 
gin not a course of reformation, but are 
only about to reform. This infatuation is 
not confined to the inexperience of our 
early years, it extends through every pe- 
riod of life. In this the hoary head is no 
wiser than the youth of yesterday ; and 
the same lying spirit that deceived us at 
twenty, is believed at threescore and ten. 
In this, experience does not make us wise, 
and when we buy instruction it avails us 
not. The fool, who, wanting to cross the 
river, lay down on its bank till the waters 
all ran by, is but a just emblem of that 
man who delays his repentance from time 
to time, who is always purposing but ne- 
ver performing, and who, neither warned 
by the past, nor alarmed for the future, 
purposes on to the last, and dies the 
same. Such is the life which numbers of 
men lead in the world, spending the 
prime and vigor of their life in vain pur- 
suits ; letting all their religion evaporate 
in empty resolutions, till, in an hour in 
which they are not aware, the warning is 
given. At midnight is the cry made, and 
when they seek to enter in with the 
bridegroom, the door is shut ! 

That you may understand the expres- 
sions made use of in the text, I must re- 



call to your remembrance, that in the 
language of Scripture, the period of our 
probation is called a time, a season, or a 
day. There is an accepted time, there is 
a season of merciful visitation, there is a 
day of grace, which, if we let slip, the 
night cometh, in which no man can work, 
in which we shall grope for the wall like 
the blind, in which we shall stumble at 
noon-day as in the night, and be in deso- 
late places as dead men. This does not 
arise from a defect of mercy in God, from 
a defect of merit in Christ, or from a de- 
fect of grace in the Holy Spirit ; it arises 
from ourselves and from the nature of 
things. Almighty God hath appointed 
this life to be our state of probation. He 
hath set apart a time to fix the character 
for eternity. When, therefore, by repeated 
acts and by long habits, this everlasting 
character is fixed, no alteration can suc- 
ceed. To give an instance that may have 
occurred to the observation of you all ; 
you have seen, or you have heard of, 
criminals who have been trained up from 
their youth in the practice of vice, who 
have advanced from less to greater 
crimes, who have been punished accord- 
ing to law, who have been imprisoned, 
who have been banished, who have re- 
turned from banishment, and for greater 
crimes have been condemned to die, who 
from some artifice or incident have es- 
caped in the critical moment, and who, in- 
stead of being reformed by all these pun- 
ishments, have fallen into the same crimes 
again, and even grown bolder in wicked- 
ness. There have indeed been instances 
of great sinners who have turned peni- 
tents, and been good Christians ; but it is 
much to be questioned if there be any 
such instance among those who have been 
long sinners, who have committed iniqui- 
ty, not by fits and starts, but upon a fix- 
ed and determined plan, who have spent 
in the service of sin all the fire of youth 
and coolness of age. 

Having explained to you the meaning 
of the phrase used in the text, before pro- 
ceeding further, take next a view of life, 
and you will see, that a great part of men let 
slip the accepted time and day of salva- 
tion, till it be too late. It is the happi- 
ness of most men in countries where the 
Christian religion is professed, to receive 



ON THE DANGER OF DELAYING REPENTANCE. 



79 



a good education, and to be trained up 
from their youth in the principles of re- 
ligion, and in the practice of virtue. But 
when this period of discipline is over, 
when a man sits out in life, and becomes 
his own master, he frequently becomes a 
different person in that different state, and 
looks upon the good habits of his youth 
as some of those childish things which he 
ought now to put away. If his educa- 
tion has been severe and rigorous ; if his 
parents restrained in him that gayety of 
heart and flow of the spirits which is the 
portion of youth ; if "he pined in his closet, 
whilst his equals in age frequented those 
entertainments which can be enjoyed with 
innocence, he then generally goes to the 
other extreme, and plunges with a precip- 
itant step into all the follies and vices of 
the age. The prisoner having got loose, 
grows wild and extravagant. Being for- 
merly shut up, he now wants to know the 
world ; and, in order to this, ventures on 
forbidden paths, resigns the reins of con- 
duct to inclination, and gives a loose to 
all his desires. Having found his former 
principles to be inconsistent with the en- 
joyment of life, he confounds his early 
prejudices with true piety ; for which 
cause he throws off religion altogether ; 
he becomes a patron and defender of vice ; 
he laughs at every thing that is serious ; 
and perhaps out of contempt to this day, 
in which we assemble together to worship 
the G-od of our fathers; out of contempt 
to the sacred rites of his country, which 
all wise heathens have revered ; out of 
contempt to the venerable institutions of 
our holy religion, spends this day in dis- 
sipation and profaneness, and open im- 
piety. 

But, not to draw the character with 
such black stains, let us suppose men at 
that period passing their days in folly 
rather than in vice, at the head of every 
idle scheme, first in every fashionable 
amusement, and as the Scripture happily 
expresseth it, "walking in vain show." 
Behold them making amusement one of 
the cares of life ; spending those precious 
hours, which no dower can ever recall, 
which no future labor can ever compen- 
sate, spending those precious hours in 
vanity and folly, whilst all along they for- 
get the business of their salvation, and 



are no more affected with the prospect 
of a world to come, than with a tale that 
is told. But whilst thus they dance 
round in a circle of folly ; whilst they 
solace themselves with the prospect of 
pleasures rising upon pleasures, never to 
have an end, and say in secret to their 
souls, " To-morrow shall be as this day, 
and much more abundant ; " whilst, like 
the foolish virgins, they slumber and 
sleep in the arms of this Delilah, at mid- 
night is the cry made, 0 man, thy hour is 
come ! And the trembling soul takes its 
departure unawares and unprepared to 
God the J udge of all J 

To guard you against the fatal error 
w r hich has undone its thousands, allow me 
to recommend to your practice the neces- 
sity of instant repentance and reforma- 
tion. In the first place, No time is so 
proper as the present ; secondly, If you 
delay, your reformation will be difficult ; 
thirdly, If you delay long, it may become 
altogether impossible. 

In the first place then, There is no 
time so proper as the present. 

The prodigal son exhibits to us a scene 
which we often see, realized in life. A 
young man, who had been educated in the 
paths of virtue, declining from these paths, 
and going astray into forbidden ground, 
from the fond expectation of meeting with 
some strange, vast, unknown happiness in 
the gratification of sensual desire. In 
the course of this unhallowed pilgrimage, 
he gives loose reins to his mind, he in- 
dulges every wandering inclination, he 
denies himself nothing that his heart 
wishes for. At last he comes to himself, 
he sees the folly of his ways, he repents, 
he resolves, he amends. Such a change 
of life we can easily conceive. In his for- 
mer situation, he knew not what he did, 
he was transported by passion, he went 
headlong down the torrent. But when 
once he began to reflect, he found that 
that was the critical moment of life, 
which, if he had neglected, his return 
would have been more difficult. I In his 
former situation, he went forward in the 
path which seemed right in his own eyes, 
without looking back. He did not act 
against the admonitions of conscience, he 
did not think at all. But if, after his 
eyes were opened to discern the state of 



80 



SERMON XV. 



wretchedness and guilt into which he had 
fallen ; if, after this, he had returned to 
folly again, it would have been much 
more difficult to restore him by repent- 
ance. Let this then be your conduct ; 
whenever you come to the knowledge of 
your sins, whenever you perceive any 
thing amiss in your lives, seize the favor- 
able moment, as the proper time to re- 
form. 

What is it, I beseech you, that you do 
by delaying ? You allow corruption time 
to strengthen and fortify itself ; you give 
temptation double force, by yielding to it, 
not from suprise, but with deliberate con- 
sent ; you weaken the power of con- 
science, that check which God appointed 
to you in your evil courses; and, with 
your own hand, you throw obstacles in 
the way of your conversion. You now 
see you are sinful and undone ; you now 
resolve to repent and amend ; you are 
now setting out in the path which leadeth 
to life ; you are not far from the kingdom 
of God. But if you resolve and perform 
not; if, when you are once engaged, 
you draw back ; you then fly off from the 
path of life to the way of destruction ; 
you throw yourself farther from the king- 
dom of God than if you had never set out. 
At once, then, at once make your escape 
from the allurements of sin ; break the 
chains by which you are held ; cut off all 
the avenues and approaches to the sin 
that besets you ; give no time to the ene- 
mies of your soul to collect their strength ; 
by faith and repentance now enter on the 
way that opens into the heavens ; when 
you say, with sincere purpose of heart, 
" I will arise and go to my Father," in 
that moment arise and go to thy Father ; 
noiv is the accepted time, now is the day 
of salvation. 

In the second place, By delaying, your 
conversion will become extremely diffi- 
cult. 

Thou sayest, 0 man ! that thou wilt 
repent in some future period of time ; but 
thou knowest not the danger of such a 
resolution. It is amazing to think with 
what ease we can impose upon ourselves. 
In spite of all his boasted wisdom, man 
is more simple than the beast of the field. 
Do you consider, my friends, that delay- 
ing from day to day, and from year to 



year, that postponing the work of your 
salvation to some future period of time, 
is little better than a fixed determination 
that you will never begin it at all ? Do you 
reflect, that the time to come, if it ever 
comes, will be the same to you then, that 
the present time is to you now ? There 
will occur the same difficulties to deter 
you, the same pleasures to allure you, the 
same dangers to terrify you. Objects will 
then be as present, and strike the senses 
as strongly as ever ; and the time of re- 
formation will still be to-morrow. Nay, 
it will then be more difficult to be saved 
than it is now. You will have more sins 
to repent of ; more bad habits to subdue ; 
a more corrupted nature to put off. It is 
a remarkable fact, and deserves your 
most serious attention, that, among all the 
conversions recorded in Scripture, there 
is not one of a sinner who delayed his 
repentance. Among all the returning 
penitents there mentioned, there is not 
one in the situation of a Christian, who 
daily hears the Gospel without its having 
any effect upon his life. Zaccheus, upon 
hearing Jesus Christ proclaim the glad 
tidings of salvation, yielded to the influ- 
ences of that grace to which he had hither- 
to been a stranger, and surrendered him- 
self to a call which had never been made 
before. The apostles, in the course of 
their ministry, converted Jews and Gen- 
tiles. They converted the Jews, by pro- 
posing to them an idea, which was new to 
them, the Lord of glory, whom they with 
wicked hands had crucified and slain, 
They converted the Gentiles, by working 
miracles in proof of their divine commis- 
sion, and by preaching the doctrines of 
salvation to them, which they had never 
heard before. 

But what new methods can we attempt 
with you ? Is there any motive to repent- 
ance which hath not already been urged 
upon you ? Is there one avenue" to the 
heart which has not already been tried, 
and which has not already been tried in 
vain ? Shall we address ourselves to your 
conscience, to give you the alarm ? But 
alas ! you have often heard its voice, you 
have often disregarded its voice, and by 
efforts too successful, have lulled it into a 
profound sleep. Shall we address our- 
selves to your hopes, by describing to you 



ON THE DANGER OF DELAYING REPENTANCE. 



81 



the joys of heaven, the rivers of pleasures 
which are at God's right hand, the happi- 
ness of the blessed, the triumphs of eter- 
nity ? All these have been already pre- 
sented to your eyes, and to all these you 
have preferred the enjoyments of an hour. 
You have sold your birth-right to immor- 
tality for a sordid gratification, and you 
now only mind earthly things. Shall we 
endeavor to alarm your fears, by setting 
before you the horrors of hell, the worm 
that never dies, the fire that is never 
quenched, everlasting destruction from the 
presence of the Lord and the glory of his 
power? These have been traced out to 
you an hundred times, and you have 
learned the fatal art of freeing yourselves 
from the fears of them. Shall we implore 
you by the grace of the Gospel, and by 
the tender mercies of the God of Peace 1 
But alas ! you have undervalued his mercy, 
you have turned his grace into wanton- 
•ness. Shall we set before you the image 
of a Saviour dying on the cross for the 
redemption of the world ? But alas ! a 
crucified Redeemer hath been often preach- 
ed to you, the memorial of his sacrifice 
hath been renewed in your sight, and after 
all you have counted his blood as a com- 
mon thing, you have looked upon the Son 
of God suffering on the cross with as much 
unconcern as the Jews of old, when they 
cried out, " Away with him, away with 
him ! » 

In the third place, By long delaying, 
your conversion may become altogether 
impossible. 

Habit, says the proverb, is a second 
nature ; and indeed it is stronger than the 
first. At first, we easily take the bend, 
and are moulded by the hands of the 
master ; but this nature of our own making 
is proof against alteration. The Ethiopian 
may as soon change his skin, and the 
leopard his spots ; the tormented in hell 
may as soon' revisit the earth; as those 
who have been long accustomed to do evil, 
may learn to do well. Such is the wise 
appointment of Heaven to deter sinners 
from delaying their repentance. When 
the evil principle hath corrupted the whole 
capacity of the mind; when sin, by its 
frequency and its duration, is woven into 
the very essence of the soul, and is become 
part of ourselves ; when the sense of 
6 



moral good and evil is almost totally ex- 
tinct; when conscience is seared as with 
a hot iron ; when the heart is so hard that 
the arrows of the Almighty cannot pierce 
it ; and when, by a long course of crimes, 
we have become what the Scripture most 
emphatically calls, " vessels of wrath fitted 
for destruction ; " — then we have filled 
up the measure of our sins; then Al- 
mighty God swears in his wrath that we 
shall not enter into his res^.; then there 
remaineth no more sacrifice for sin, but a 
fearful looking for wrath, and indignation 
which shall devour the adversary. Al- 
mighty God, weary of bearing with the 
sins of men, delivers them over to a repro- 
bate mind, when, like Pharaoh, they sur- 
vive only as monuments of wrath ; when, 
like Esau, they cannot find a place for re- 
pentance, although they seek it carefully 
with tears ; when, like the foolish virgins, 
they come knocking, but the door of mercy 
is for ever shut. 

Further, Let me remind you, my breth- 
ren, that if you repent not now, perhaps 
you will not have another opportunity. 
You say you will repent in some future 
period of time ; but are you sure of ar- 
riving at that period of time ? Have you 
one hour in your hand ? Have you one 
minute at your disposal % Boast not thy- 
self of to-morrow. Thou knowest not what 
a day may bring forth. Before to-morrow, 
multitudes shall be in another world. Art 
thou sure that thou art not of the num- 
ber ? Man knoweth not his time. As- 
the fishes that are taken in an evil net, as^ 
the birds that arc caught in the snare, so. 
are the sons of men snared in an evil hour.. 
Can you recall to mind none of your com- 
panions, none of the partners of your 
follies and your sins, cut off in an uncon- 
verted state, cut off perhaps in the midst 
of an unfinished debauch, and hurried,, 
with all their transgressions on their head, 
to give in their account to God the Judge- 
of all % Could I show you the state which, 
they are now in ; could an angel from hea- 
ven unbar the gates of the everlasting 
prison ; could you discern the late com- 
panions of your wanton hours overwhelm- 
ed with torment and despair ; could you. 
hear the cry of their torment which as- 
cendeth up for ever and ever ; could you 
! hear them upbraiding you as the partners- 



82 



SERMON" XVL 



of their, crimes, and accusing you as in 
some measure the cause of their damna- 
tion 1 — Great God ! how would your hair 
stand on end ! how would your heart die 
within you ! how would conscience fix all 
its stings, and remorse, awaking a new 
hell within you, torment you before the 
time ! Had a like untimely fate snatched 
you away then, where had you been now ? 
And is this the improvement which you 
make of that longer day of grace with 
which Heaven has been pleased to favor 
you ? Is this the return you make to the 
Divine goodness for prolonging your lives, 
and indulging you with a longer day of 
repentance ? Have you in good earnest 
determined within yourself that you will 
weary out the longsuffering of God, and 
force destruction from his reluctant hand ? 

I beseech, I implore you, my brethren, 
in the bonds of friendship, and in the 
bowels of the Lord ; by the tender mercies 
of the God of Peace ; by the dying love 
of a crucified Redeemer; by the precious 
promises and awful threatenings of the 
Gospel ; by all your hopes of heaven and 
fears of hell ; by the worth of your im- 
mortal souls, and by all that is dear to 
men ; I conjure you to accept of the offers 
of mercy, and fly from the wrath to come, 
" Behold now is the accepted time, behold 
now is the day of salvation." AH the 
treasures of heaven are now opening to 
you ; the blood of Christ is now speaking 
for the remission of your sins ; the church 
on earth stretches out its arms to receive 
you ; the spirits of just men made perfect 
are eager to enroll you amongst the num- 
ber of the blessed ; the angels and arch- 
angels are waiting to break out into new 
alleluiahs of joy on your return ; the 
whole Trinity is now employed in your be- 
half; God the Father, God the Son, and 
God the Holy Spirit, at this instant call 
upon you, weary and heavy laden, to come 
unto them that ye may have rest unto your 
souls ! 



SERMON XVL 

ON THE PARABLE OF THE PRODIGAL SON, 

Luke xv, 18. — "I will arise and go to my Fa- 
ther." 

The parable of the prodigal son is one 
of the most beautiful and affecting pieces 
of composition which is any where to be 
found. The occasion on which it was 
spoken, and the persons to whom it was 
addressed, are well known to you. Drop- 
ping therefore what was peculiar at the 
first narration, I shall consider it as re- 
presenting in general the return of sinners 
to God by true repentance. 

Such a return is not a single act in the 
Christian life ; it is the habitual duty of 
every man who is subject to infirmities 
and defects. For such is the weakness of 
human nature in this imperfect state, such 
is the strength of temptation in this evil 
world, that frail man is often led astray 
before he is aware. Alas ! in our best 
estate we are but returning penitents ; and 
to the last hour of this mortal life we 
stand in need of amendment. 

We may observe the following steps in 
the return of the prodigal to his father's 
house; first, His restoration to a better 
mind, by means of consideration. ' : When 
he came to himself, he said, How many 
hired servants of my father's have bread 
enough, and to spare ! " Second, Ingenu- 
ous sorrow for sin, accompanied with faith 
in the Divine mercy. "Father, I have 
sinned against Heaven and before thee." 
Third, A resolution to return to a sense 
of duty. " I will arise and go to my fa- 
ther." And, fourth, His immediate per- 
formance of that resolution. " And he 
arose and came to his father." 

First, His restoration to a better mind 
by means of consideration. " He came to 
himself." 

With great propriety is this expression 
used ; for a wicked man is beside himself. 
Madness, saith Solomon, is in the heart of 
the sinner. As madness is a disease of 
the rational powers, so is vice of the moral. 
Sin, in like manner, unhinges the whole 
frame of the moral being, tinges with its 
baleful colors every sentiment of the heart, 
and presents to view a spectacle more 



ON THE PARABLE OF THE PRODIGAL SON. 



83* 



melancholy still, a being, made after the 
image of &od, sinking that image into the 
resemblance of a brute 5 or the character 
of a fiend. Mad, however, as such per- 
sons are, they are not always so. Sin 
cannot always keep its ground. The evil 
principle has its hour of weakness and de- 
cline. There is no man uniformly wicked. 
The exertion is too strong to last for ever. 
Nature does not afford strength and spirits 
sufficient to keep a man always in energy. 
The most abandoned have fits and starts 
of soberness and recollection. There are 
lucid intervals in the life of every person. 
At such a time is the crisis of a man's cha- 
racter. At such a time the prodigal son 
came to his right mind. At once the spell 
wa sbroken and the enchantment dissolved. 
He is amazed, he is confounded to find 
himself degraded from the rational charac- 
ter ; cast down to the herd of inferior ani- 
mals ; making one at the feast where the 
vilest of brutes were his associates and 
companions. Then the false colors with 
which fancy had gilded his life, vanish 
away. The flattering ideas which imagin- 
ation and passion presented to his mind, 
disappear in a moment. Disenchanted 
from the delusions of the great deceiver, 
what he esteemed to be the garden of 
Eden, he finds to be a desolate wilderness. 
" Then he came to himself." 

You know that when a man recovers 
from a fit of lunacy, and is restored to his 
reason, the mind annihilates the lurid in- 
terval*, forgets the events of such a state 
like a dream, and resumes the train of ideas 
it had pursued in its sound state. Thus, 
the penitent in the parable, awaking as 
from a dream, recovering as from a delir- 
ium, transports himself into the/time past, 
his former life recurs to his mind, his 
father's house rises to view, he recalls 
the first of his days before he went astray. 
Happy days of early innocence and early 
piety, before remorse had embittered his 
hours, or vice corrupted his heart ! Hap- 
py days ! when the morning arose in peace, 
and the evening went down in innocence ; 
when no action of the past day disturbed 
his slumbers by night ; when no reflection 
on the riots of the night threw a cloud 
over the succeeding day ; when he was at 
peace with his own heart ; when conscience 
was on his side ; when reflection was a 



friend ; when memory presented only wel- 
come images to the mind ; when, under 
the wings of paternal care, he was blessed 
in his going out and coming in ; when his 
father's eye met his with approbation and 
delight. 

Having veiwed the picture, he compares 
it with his present situation. Sad contrast ! 
By his own folly, a vagabond in a foreign 
land ; banished from all that he valued 
and held dear ; cut off from the joys of his 
better days ; languishing out life under 
the most abject form of misery ; pining 
under poverty ; sunk into servitude ; feed- 
ing swine, and himself desiring to partake 
with them in their husks ; miserable with- 
out, but more miserable within ; a spirit 
wounded by remorse, a heart tbrn by re- 
flection of itself, an accusing conscience, 
which told him that he merited his fate, 
and which held up to him his past life in 
it's blackest colors of folly and guilt. As- 
tonished at himself, startled at his own 
image, which, in its true colors, he had ne- 
ver seen before, he was ashamed of his 
conduct, and came to a better mind. Such 
were the effects of consideration, and such 
will ever be the effects of consideration to 
those who duly exercise it. Why does the 
sinner go forward in the error of his ways ? 
Because he does not consider. " Hear, 0 
heavens ; give ear, 0 earth : the ox know- 
eth his owner, and the ass his master's 
crib; but my people do not consider." 
Consider your ways, is the voice whjch 
God addresses to mankind in every age; 
and unless you consider, the calls of the 
gospel and the offers of grace are made to 
no purpose. The world which is to come 
has no existence to you but what you give 
it yourselves; the eternity that is before 
you, the happiness of heaven and the pains 
of hell, are no more than dreams, unless 
you realize them to yourselves, unless you 
give them their full force, by bringing 
them home to the heart. When a man re- 
views the error of his ways, nothing is 
wanting to a further reformation but reflec- 
tion and thought. Think, and the work 
is done. " I have considered my ways," 
saith the Psalmist. What was the conse- 
quence ? "I turned my feet unto thy tes- 
timonies." 

The second step in the return of the 
prodigal, is ingenuous sorrow for sin, ac- 



84 



SERMON XVI. 



companied with faith in the Divine mercy. 
11 Father, I have sinned against Heaven 
and before thee." 

We are formed by the Author of our 
being to feel contrition for the offences 
we commit. This pungent sense of in- 
firmities, this penitential sorrow for errors 
and defects, is a beauty in the nature of 
man. It is an indication that the sense 
of excellence exists in its full vigor, and 
the mark of a nature that is not only im- 
provable, but that also is making improve- 
ments. When a man seriously considers 
that the tenor of his life has been irregu- 
lar and disorderly ; that much of his time 
has been misemployed, and great part of 
it spent altogether in vain ; that he has 
walked in a vain show, unprofitable to 
himself or others, an idler upon the earth, 
a cumberer of the ground ; that by his 
negligence and perversion of his powers he 
has been lost to the world which is to 
come, has marred the beauty of his im- 
mortal spirit, and stopped short in the race 
which conducts to glory, honor, and im- 
mortality ; when he further considers that 
his offences have extended to his fellow- 
men, that by his conduct he has been the 
cause of misery to others, has disturbed 
the peace of society, done an injury to the 
innocent, such reflections in a heart that 
is not altogether callous, will awaken con- 
trition and sorrow. 

This penitential sorrow will be increas- 
ed when he considers against whom he 
has offended ; that he has sinned against 
infinite goodness and saving mercy and 
tender love ; that he has resisted the 
efforts of that arm that was lifted up to 
save him; that he has rebelled against 
the God who made, and the Saviour who 
redeemed him. This is one of the char- 
acteristics of true repentance. The pen- 
itent does not mourn for his sins as being 
ruinous to himself so much as for their being 
offensive to God. The returning prodigal, 
in the address he makes to his Father, 
dwells, not upon the misery he had brought 
upon himself, upon the ruin to his char- 
acter, his fortune and his expectations in 
life. " I have sinned against Heaven and 
in thy sight." What grieves me most is, 
that I have offended thee ; that I have 
sinned against goodness unspeakable ; 
against that goodness to which I am in- 



debted for the care of my infant years ; 
against that goodness to which I owe my 
preservation ; against him who visited me 
while I was flying from his presence ; who 
supported my powers while they were em- 
ployed against him. It is my Benefactor 
whom I have offended ; it is my best 
Friend that I have injured ; it is my 
Father himself against whom I have risen 
in arms. 

This sorrow for sin is accompanied with 
faith in the Divine mercy. To wicked 
men laboring under the agonies of a guilty 
mind, the Deity appears an object of terror. 
They figure to themselves an angry tyrant, 
with his thunder in his hand delighting to 
punish and destroy. Like Adam when 
he had sinned, they are afraid, and flee 
from the presence of the Lord. But 
from the mind of the penitent these ter- 
rors vanish, and God appears, not as a 
cruel and malignant power, but as the 
best of beings, the Father of mercies and 
the Friend of men, as a God in Christ re- 
conciling the world unto himself. Encour- 
aged by these declarations, the penitent 
trusts to the Divine goodness, and flies 
for refuge to the hope set before him. It 
is the wicked man only that despairs. 
Horrors of conscience and forebodings of 
wrath affright and overwhelm the sons of 
reprobation. Such horrors felt Cain and 
Judas Iscariot. But the penitent never 
despairs. He sinks indeed in his own 
eyes, and throws himself prostrate on the 
ground, but still throws himself at the 
footstool of mercy, not without the faith 
and the hope that he will be taken into 
favor. The language of his soul is, 
" Though I am cast out of thy sight, yet 
will I look again to thy holy temple. I 
will arise and go to my Father, for though 
I have offended him, he is a Father still. 
He now sits upon a throne of mercy, and 
holds a sceptre of grace. At thy tribu- 
nal former offenders have been forgiven, 
and former sinners have been taken into 
favor. To thy ears the cry of the peni- 
tent has never ascended in vain. Thou 
art ever nigh to all who call upon thee in 
sincerity of heart. When we tend to 
thee, at the first step of our return, thou 
stretchest out thy hand to receive us." 
So different is that repentance which is 
unto life from the sorrow of the world 



THE SPIRIT OF GOD AJND 



THE SPIRIT OF THE WORLD. 



85 



which worketh death. Different as the look 
of melancholy upon the face of the vir- 
tuous mourner, is from the unkindly glow 
which burns the cheek of shame : different 
as the tender tears which a good man 
sheds for his friends, are from those bitter 
drops which fall from the malefactor at 
the place of execution. 

The third step is a resolution to return 
to a sense of duty. " I will arise." 

Without determined purposes of amend- 
ment, contrition is unavailing and ineffec- 
tual. The Deity is not delighted with the 
sufferings of man. Sorrow for sin is so 
far pleasing, as it softens the heart, and 
makes it better. It is the resolution of 
amendment, the purposes pointed to re- 
formation, that make the broken heart and 
the contrite spirit an acceptable sacrifice ; 
such is the nature of true repentance ; it 
flows not so much from the sense of dan- 
ger as from the love of goodness. 

In true repentance, there is not only a 
change of mind, but a change of life. 
When the day-spring from on high arises 
on him who is in darkness, when God says, 
Let there be light, the scales fall from 
his eyes, a new world breaks upon his 
sight, futurity becomes present, and in- 
visible things are seen ; then first he be- 
holds the beauty which is in holiness, and 
tastes the joy which flows from returning 
virtue. In that happy hour he forms the 
pious purpose, and seals the sacred vow 
to be holy for ever. Then he prefers the 
peace which flows from virtue, and the joy 
which arises from a good conscience, to 
every consideration. Then the servants 
of God appear to him the only happy men, 
and he would rather rank with the meanest 
of these, than enjoy the riches^ of many 
wicked. " Great God, withhold from me 
what thou pleasest, but give me to enjoy 
the approbation of my own mind, and thy 
favor. I would rather be the humblest 
of thy sons than dwell in the tents of 
wickedness." None shall enter into the 
New Jerusalem, and sit down at the right 
hand of the Father, but they who prefer 
the testimony of a good conscience, the 
smiles of Heaven, and the sentence of the 
just, to all the treasures of the world. 

Had the penitent not been in earnest, 
false shame might have prevented or re- 
tarded his return. Conscious of guilt, 



and covered with confusion, how shall he 
appear before his friends and acquaint- 
ance ? "I know (might he have said) the 
malice of an ill-judging and injurious 
world. The sins which are blotted out 
from the book of God's remembrance are 
not forgotten by them. Let me fly rather 
to the uttermost parts of the earth, retire 
to the wilderness untrodden by the foot 
of man, and hide me in the shades which 
the beams of the sun never pierced, than 
be exposed to the scorn and contumely 
and reproach of all around me." 

But the penitent was determined and 
immovable. * # * 

[ The rest of the MS. was not legible.'] 



SERMON XVII. 

THE SPIRIT WHICH IS OF GOD AND THE SPIRIT 
OF THE WORLD DESCRIBED. 

I. Corinthians n. 12. — "Now we have received, 
not the spirit of the world, but the spirit 
which is of God." 

There are two characters which, in Sacred 
Scripture, are set in perpetual opposition, 
the man of the earth, and the citizen of 
heaven. The first character pertains to 
that class of men, who, whatever specula- 
tive opinions they entertain, yet, in prac- 
tice, consider this life as their only state 
of being. A person of this character 
centres all his regards in himself ; con- 
fines his views entirely to this world, and, 
pursuing avarice, ambition, or sensual 
pleasure, makes these the sole objects of 
pursuit. Good dispositions he may pos- 
sess, but he exercises them only when they 
are subservient to his purposes. Virtues 
also he may cultivate, not for their own 
sake, but for the temporal advantages they 
bring along with them. The citizen of 
heaven moves in a nobler sphere. He 
does not indeed affect the character of 
sanctity, by neglecting his temporal con- 
cerns. He looks upon the maxim of David, 
as inspired wisdom. " If thou art wise thou 
art wise for. thyself." But although he has 
his temporal interest in his eye, he has a 
higher interest in his heart. What is 
necessary, what is useful, will often be a 



86 



SERMON XVII. 



subject of attention ; but what is generous, 
what is lovely, what is honorable, what is 
praise-worthy, become the chief objects of 
pursuit. He cultivates good dispositions 
from a sense of their beauty, previous to 
his experience of their utility ; he esteems 
the possession of virtue more than the 
earthly rewards it procures ; he lives in a 
constant discharge of the duties of life in 
this state, and with a well-grounded faith, 
and an animating hope, looks forward to a 
better world, and a higher state of being. 

These two characters, which divide all 
mankind, are always represented in Scrip- 
ture as inconsistent and incompatible with 
each other. It is impossible, says our 
Lord, at one and the same time to serve 
God and to serve Mammon. If any man 
love the world, says the apostle John, the 
love of the Father is not in him. The 
principles that actuate these characters 
are represented in the text as two spirits 
opposite to one another, the spirit of the 
world, and the spirit which is of God. 
The spirit of any thing is that vital prin- 
ciple which sets it agoing ; which keeps it 
in motion ; which gives it its form and 
distinguishing qualities. The spirit of 
the world is that principle which gives a 
determination to the character, and a form 
to the life, of the man of the earth. The 
spirit which is of God is that vital prin- 
ciple which gives a determination to the 
character, and a form to the life, of the 
citizen of heaven. One of these spirits 
actuates all mankind. While therefore I 
represent the striking lineaments in these 
opposite characters, take this along with 
you, that I am describing a character 
which is your own : a character which 
either raises to eminence, or sinks down 
to debasement. 

In ikejirst place, then, The spirit of the 
world is mean and grovelling ; the spirit 
which is of God is noble and elevated. 
The man of the earth, making himself the 
object of all his actions, and having his 
own interest perpetually in view, conducts 
his life by maxims of utility alone. This 
being the point to which he constantly 
steers, this being the line from which he 
never deviates, he puts a value on every 
thing precisely as it is calculated to ac- 
complish his purposes. Accordingly, to 
gain his end, he descends to the lowest 



and the vilest means ; he gives up the 
manly, the spirited, and the honorable part 
of life j he makes a sacrifice of fame, and 
character, and dignity, and turns himself 
into all the forms of meanness, and base- 
ness, and prostration. The Prophet 
Isaiah, with infinite spirit, derides the 
idols of the heathen world. " A man," 
saith'he, " planteth a tree, and the rain 
doth nourish it ; he heweth him down 
cedars, and taketh the cypress and the 
oak ; and of the tree which he planted 
he maketh to himself a god. The car- 
penter stretcheth out his rule, he marketh 
it out with a line ; he fashioneth it with 
planes, and maketh it after the figure of 
a man ; and then he worshippeth it as a 
god. Part thereof he burnetii in the 
fire, with a part thereof he maketh bread, 
and with the residue he maketh a god." 
Similar to this is the creation of these 
earthly gods. Read the pages of their 
history, and behold them rising to divinity 
by compliance, by servility, by humiliat- 
ing meanness, and the darkest debase- 
ments. How dishonorable often is that 
path which conducts to earthly grandeur ; 
and how mean a creature frequently is he 
whom the world calls a great man ! So 
low and grovelling is the spirit of the 
world. 

It is a spirit of a different kind that 
animates the citizen of heaven. He is 
born from above ; he derives his descent 
from the everlasting Father, and he re- 
tains a conscious sense of his divine origi- 
nal. Hence, Christians, in Scripture, are 
called " noble ; " are called the " excel- 
lent ones of the earth." It is unworthy 
of their celestial descent, it is unbecoming 
their new nature, to stoop to the meanness 
of vice. The citizen of heaven scorns the 
vile arts, and the low cunning, employed 
by the man of the earth. He condescends 
indeed to every gentle office of kindness and 
humanity. But there is a difference be- 
tween condescending and descending from 
the dignity of character. From that he 
never descends. He himself ever feels, and 
he makes others feel too, that he walks in 
a path which leads to greatness, and sup- 
ports a character which is forming for 
heaven. Such is the difference between 
the spirit of the world, and the spirit 
which is of God. Suppleness, servility, 



THE SPIRIT OF GOD AND THE SPIRIT OF THE WORLD. 



87 



abject submission, disgrace the one ; dig- 
nity, elevation, independence, exalt the 
other. The one is a serpent, smooth, in- 
sinuating, creeping on the ground, and 
licking the dust : the other is an eagle, 
that towers aloft in the higher regions of 
the air, and moves rejoicing in his path 
through the heavens. 

In the second place, The spirit "of the 
world is a spirit of falsehood, dissimula- 
tion and hypocrisy ; the spirit of God is a 
spirit of truth, sincerity and openness. The 
life which the man of the earth leads is a 
scene of imposture and delusion. Show with- 
out substance ; appearance without reali- 
ty ; professions of friendship which signify 
nothing, and promises which are never 
meant to be performed, fill up a life which 
is all outside. With him the face is not 
the index of the mind, nor the tongue the 
interpreter of the heart. There is a lie in 
his right hand. He is perpetually acting 
a part, and under a mask he goes about 
deceiving the world. He turns himself 
into a variety of shapes ; he changes as 
circumstances change ; he goes through 
all the forms of dissimulation, and puts 
off one disguise to put on another. He 
does not hesitate to counterfeit religion 
when it serves a turn, and to act the saint 
in order to gain his ends. Hence the 
spirit of the world hath often passed for 
the spirit which is of God, and Satan un- 
der this disguise hath been mistaken for 
an angel of light. Such is the spirit of 
the world. 

The spirit which is of God is a spirit 
of truth, sincerity and openness. The 
citizen of heaven esteems truth as sacred, 
and holds sincerity to be the first of the 
virtues. He has no secret doctrines to 
communicate. He needs no chosen confi- 
dents to whom he may impart his favorite 
notions ; no private conventicles where he 
may disseminate his opinions. What he 
avows to God he avows to man. He ex- 
presseth with his tongue what he thinketh 
with his heart. He will not indeed im- 
properly publish truths ; he will not pros- 
titute what is pure and holy ; he will not, 
as the Scripture says, throw pearls before 
swine ; but neither will he on any occa- 
sion, partake with swine in their husks. 
He is what he appears to be. Arrayed in 
the simple majesty of truth, he seeks no 



other covering. Supported by the con- 
sciousness of rectitude, he holds fast his 
integrity as he would guard his life. Such 
is the difference between these characters. 
The man of the earth turns aside to the 
crooked paths and insidious mazes of dis- 
simulation ; the citizen of heaven moves 
along in the onward track of integrity and 
honor. The spirit of the world seeks con- 
cealment and the darkness and the shade ; 
the spirit which is of God loves the light, 
becomes the light, adorns the light. 

Thirdly, The spirit of the world is a 
timid spirit ; the spirit which is of God is 
a bold and manly spirit. Actuated by 
selfish principles, and pursuing his own 
interest, the man of the earth is afraid to 
offend. He accommodates himself to the 
manners that prevail, and courts the favor 
of the world by the most insinuating of 
all kinds of flattery, by following its ex- 
ample. He is a mere creature of the 
times ; a mirror to reflect every vice of 
the vicious, and every vanity of the vain. 
His sole desire is to please. If he speak 
truths, they are pleasing truths. He dares 
not risk the disapprobation of a fool, and 
would rather offend against the laws of 
Heaven than give offence to his neighbor. 
To sinners he appears as a sinner, to saints 
he appears as a saint. In the literal sense 
he becomes all things to all men, without 
aspiring to that faith which would set him 
above the world, or to that spirit which 
would enable him to assert the dignity of 
the rational character. He is timid be- 
cause he has reason to be so. Wicked- 
ness, condemned by its own vileness, is 
timorous, and forecasteth grievous things. 
There is a dignity in virtue which keeps 
him at a distance ; he feels how awful 
goodness is ; and in the presence of a vir- 
tuous man, he shrinks into his own in- 
significance. 

On the other hand, the righteous is 
bold as a lion. " I fear my God, and I 
have no other fear," is the language of his 
heart. With God for his protector, and 
with innocence for his shield, he walks 
through the world with an erect posture, 
and with a face that looks upwards. He 
despises a fool, though he were possessed 
of all the gold of Ophir and scorns a vile man, 
though a minister of state. The voice of 
the world is to him as a sounding brass or 



88 



SERMON XVIII. 



tinkling cymbal. The applauses or the 
censures of the high or the low affect him 
not. Like distant thunder, they vibrate 
on his ear, but come not to his heart. 
To him his own mind is the whole world. 
There sits the judge of his actions, and he 
appeals to no other tribunal upon the 
earth. He possesses the spirit which rests 
upon itself. He walks by his own light, 
he determines upon his own deeds. Sup- 
ported by the consciousness of innocence, 
and acting with all the force of Provi- 
dence on his side, he has nothing to fear ; 
knows that he can no more be hurt by the 
rumors of the idle, impious, and hypo- 
critical, than the heavens can be set on 
fire by the sparkles that arise into the air, 
and that die in the moment they ascend. 
Animated with this spirit, the feeble be- 
come strong in the Lord. The apostles 
who on former occasions had been weak 
and timid, whom the voice of a woman 
frightened i;ito apostasy, who deserted their 
Master in his deepest distress, and hid them- 
selves from the fury of the multitude ; 
these apostles no sooner felt the impulse 
of this Spirit, than they appeared openly 
in the midst of Jerusalem, published the 
resurrection of Jesus to those priests and 
elders who had condemned him to death, 
and discovered a boldness and magna- 
nimity, a spirit and intrepidity, which shook 
the councils of the Jewish nation, and 
made the kings of the earth to tremble on 
their thrones. 

In the* last place, The spirit of the 
world is an interested spirit; the spirit 
which is of God is a generous spirit. The 
man of the earth has no feeling but for 
himself. His own interest is his only ob- 
ject ; he never loses sight of this ; this is 
his all ; every line of his conduct centres 
in this point. He has a design in every 
thing he does. As the Prophet Malachi 
says, " He will not shut the doors for 
naught." He deliberates not whether an 
action will do good, but whether it will 
do good to him. That generosity of sen- 
timent which expands the soul ; that 
charming sensibility of heart which makes 
us glow for the good and weep for the 
woes of others; that Christian charity 
which comprehends in its wide circle all 
our brethren of mankind; that diffusive 
benevolence reduced to a principle of ac- 



tion which makes the human nature ap- 
proach to the Divine, he considers as the 
dreams of a visionary head, as the fig- 
ments of a romantic mind that knows ciot 
the world. 

But the spirit which is of G-od is as 
generous as the spirit of the world is sor- 
did. One of the chief duties in the spiri- 
tual life is to deny self. Christianity is 
founded upon the most astonishing in- 
stance of generosity and love that ever 
was exhibited to the world ; and they 
have no pretensions to the Christian cha- 
racter who feel not the truth of what their 
master said, " That it is more blessed to 
give than to receive." This is not com- 
prehended by worldly men, and the more 
worldly and wicked they are, the more it 
is incomprehensible. " Does Job serve. 
God for naught ? " said the first accuser 
of the just. Yes, thou accursed spirit ! 
he serves God for naught. Thy votaries 
serve thee for lucre and profit and filthy 
mammon ; but the children of God serve 
him from reverence and love. Rewarded 
indeed they shall be in heaven, while thine 
are to be tormented, and by thyself, in 
hell ; but they account that to be a suffi- 
cient reward which they have even here 
in their own hearts, the consciousness and 
the applauses of generosity. 



SERMON XVIII. 

ON THE INFLUENCE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

Luke xi. 13. — " How much more shall your 

heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them 
that ask him ! " 

In the beginning of this chapter, our Lord 
prescribed to his disciples a pattern of 
prayer. He discovered the Deity to them 
under the tender name of a Father ; and 
he taught them to approach the throne of 
Grace with the affection and the confidence 
of children. To encourage them still 
more to practise this duty, he assures 
them of success upon their perseverance in 
devotion ; and to impress his instructions 
in the strongest manner upon their minds, 
he delivers a parable to them, which he 
I concludes with these words : " Ask, and 



ON THE INFLUENCE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 



89 



it shall be given you ; seek, and ye shall 
find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto 
you. For every one that asketh, receiv- 
eth ; and he that seeketh, findeth ; and to 
him that knocketh, it shall be opened. 
If a son shall ask bread of any of you that 
is a father, will he give him a stone ? or 
if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him 
a serpent ? or if he shall ask an egg, will 
he offer him a scorpion ? If ye then, being 
evil, know how to give good gifts unto 
your children, how much more shall your 
heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to 
them that ask him ? " As if he had said, 
" I have told you that God is your Fa- 
ther ; that his ear is ever open to your 
cry, and that his hand is ever stretched 
out in your behalf. You that are fathers 
can judge of the paternal affection. If 
you see a child in distress, will your bow- 
els of compassion be shut against him ? 
When he utters the voice of sorrow, will 
you turn a deaf ear to his complaint 1 
Will you refuse to stretch out the hand 
to save him from the pit, and instead of 
relieving him, push him down into de- 
struction ? There is no father so barba- 
rous, and no heart so cruel. If you, then, 
evil and corrupted as you are ; if, clothed 
as you are with human frailties and infir- 
mities, you know how to give good gifts 
unto your children ; if the workings of 
nature, and the yearnings of paternal af- 
fection, prompt you to perform good offi- 
ces, how much more will the infinite be- 
nevolence of the Deity prompt him to 
bless all his offspring, and open his boun- 
tiful, hand to the whole family of heaven 
and earth ! As the Most High God who 
inhabiteth eternity, excels his meanest 
creature, the being of a day, so far doth 
the infinite benignity and everlasting love 
of your Father in heaven exceed the fond- 
est affection of an earthly parent." 

In further discoursing to you upon this 
subject, I shall explain what is meant by 
giving the Holy Spirit. 

Perhaps these words may refer to the 
extraordinary effusion of the Holy Ghost 
upon the apostles on the day of Pentecost, 
when they received the gift of tongues, 
and were endued with the power of work- 
ing miracles. Though these words may 
include this meaning, yet they chiefly re- 
fer to the ordinary influence of the Divine 



Spirit, which extends to every generation ; 
which is the principle of the spiritual life 
within us, and continues with the faithful 
in all ages. Reason and revelation con- 
cur in assuring us, that the great Creator 
hath never withdrawn himself from his 
works. Above us, around us, and within 
us, God is seen, God is felt. The vast 
universe is one great temple which he fills 
with his presence. As he is ever present 
in the world, he is ever employed. The 
hand that at first stretched out the hea- 
vens, still supports the pillars of the fir- 
mament. The breath which kindled the 
vital heat of nature, still keeps the flame 
alive and glowing ; God still acts through 
all his works, preserving and upholding 
the whole system of things, and carrying 
forward the designs of infinite wisdom 
and goodness. His providence is a con- 
tinued exertion of creating power. As 
he is employed in the material, he acts 
also upon the moral world. The Father 
of spirits communicates himself to holy * 
men, enlightens their understandings with 
divine knowledge; by secret ways, at 
once strengthens and ravishes the mind, 
and fills them with a conscious sense of 
his own presence. Hence the wisest 
among the heathens, guided only by the 
light of nature, acknowledged the neces- 
sity of supernatural aids, and taught that 
nothing great or good could be performed 
without the influence of a divine Spirit. 
But as this doctrine hath been by some 
denied altogether, and by others involved 
in mysticism and absurdity, it will be 
proper to give you that just and rational 
account of it which the Scripture authori- 
zes. 

There is hardly any one thing of which 
mankind may be made more sensible from 
their own experience, than the necessity 
of divine aids. For alas ! the balance in 
human nature, between reason and appe- 
tite, between the powers of the mind, and 
the inclinations arising from the body, is 
in a great degree lost. There may be, 
and there once was, a more harmonious 
temperament in the human frame. The 
rational part of our nature was better en- 
lightened and more vigorous ; the passions 
and appetites of the animal part moved 
under its control. But that state of in- 
nocence is no more. Our nature is now 



90 



SERMON XVIII. 



degenerated ; we find a law in the mem- 
bers warring against the law of the mind. 
This disorder of our frame is more and 
more increased by those false notions of 
happiness which we are apt to imbibe, and 
by the many bad examples among which 
we pass our early years, insomuch, that 
by the time that we are grown up to the 
full power and exercise of reason, we find 
ourselves brought under the dominion of 
sensual and wicked inclinations. How 
then shall we recover our liberty ? How 
shall we regain the original rectitude of 
our nature, and obtain a victory over the 
vices which war against the soul ? Is na- 
ture, such as it now is, sufficient for these 
things ? Is reason alone an equal match 
for the passions and desires of the heart, 
broke loose from all their restraints, au- 
thorized by custom, and inflamed by ex- 
ample ? Can we cease to do evil and learn 
to do well, purely of ourselves, and be 
able to turn the stream of our affections 
from sensible and earthly things, to ob- 
jects worthy of the choice and pursuit of 
a reasonable nature ? Can we, in short, 
convert ourselves by our own strength, 
and turn from the power of Satan unto 
the living God'? Are we sufficient for 
these things ? 

We are not. When we would do good, 
evil is present with us ; the sensual part 
of our nature obtains dominion over the 
rational; we are chained down to the 
earth, while we attempt to soar to the hea- 
vens. Here, therefore, God hath graciously 
interposed for our recovery. As he sent 
his Son into the world to redeem us from 
the guilt of sin and the curse of the law, 
he gives us his Holy Spirit to deliver us 
from the dominion of sin, and to translate 
us from the bondage of Satan into the 
family of Heaven, and the glorious liberty 
of the children of God. Hence he is said 
to work in us both to will and to do that 
which is his good pleasure. We are said 
to receive the Spirit, and our bodies are 
styled the temples of the Holy Ghost. 

Concerning this Spirit given to those 
that ask him, I observe, in the first place, 
that his influence is consistent with the 
freedom of a reasonable being. The as- 
sistance which we receive from above, both 
in our first conversion from sin, and 
through the whole course of a religious 



life, are entirely rational, and have only a 
persuasive and moral influence. The}' do 
not resemble the inspiration of the pro- 
phets of old, which was sudden and vio- 
lent, and overpowered the mind ; which 
superseded the use of reaso n, and suspended 
for a while the exercise of the natural 
faculties. The prophets were but the in- 
struments of the Spirit, but we work to- 
gether with God. The grace of Heaven 
does not take away the powers of the 
mind, but exalts them. It does not de- 
stroy the natural liberty of the mind, it 
makes us free indeed. If a man loses his 
free agency he ceases to be a man. He is 
a machine, and is acted upon. In opposi- 
tion to this, God is said in Scripture, to 
draw us with the cords of love, and with 
the bands of a man : that is, in such a 
manner as is most consistent with freedom 
of choice, and agreeable to the constitu- 
tion of a reasonable nature. Reason being 
the noblest faculty of the human frame, 
it first partakes the influence of the divine 
Spirit. Its views are enlarged to take in 
the system of divine truth, and its power 
is increased to govern the whole man. 
These divine aids extend to the heart 
and the affections, place them on proper 
objects, and give them their noblest joys. 
In short, they take in the whole of the 
Christian life. They inspire good resolu- 
tions and purposes of new obedience ; they 
carry us on, and encourage us in the ways 
of righteousness ; they render the prac- 
tice of our duty easy and delightful, and 
bring us at last to the enjoyment of un- 
interrupted and everlasting happiness. 

Thus you see, that the influence of the 
divine Spirit is in a way agreeable to the 
frame of human nature, gentle and per- 
suasive ; not controlling or obstructing 
the use of reason, but by the use of rea- 
son influencing the will, moderating the 
affections, and regulating the whole con- 
versation. It is no argument against the 
reality of such divine aids, that they are 
not distinguishable from the operation of 
our own minds, and that we feel them not 
in a sensible and striking manner. How 
difficult is it in our own character to dis- 
tinguish what is natural from what is ac- 
quired; to distinguish between tbe natural 
treasures of the mind, and those foreign 
stores which she imports from education. 



ON THE INFLUENCE 



OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 



The Spirit of God acts in such a manner 
as is most agreeable to the faculties of the 
mind. It is in this manner also, that God 
acts in the material world. Whatever is 
done in the heavens, or in the earth, or in 
the sea, is brought about by divine Provi- 
dence. Yet all that chain of causes and 
effects, from the lowest up to the throne 
of God, we call by the name of the course 
of nature. But what is this? The course 
of nature is the energy of God. 

In the second place, I observe, concern- 
ing the influence of the Spirit, that its 
reality is only known by its operation and 
effect upon our lives. " Marvel not," said 
our Lord to Nicodemus, " that I said unto 
you, Thou must be born again. The wind 
bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest 
the sound thereof, but canst not tell 
whence it cometh, and whither it goeth. 
So is every one that is born of the Spirit." 
That is, as if he had said, the influences 
of the Spirit are indeed imperceptible to 
sense, and cannot be distinguished in the 
precise moment of their operation, but 
they are visible and certain in their effects, 
and in the fruits which they produce. A 
life of obedience and holiness, therefore, 
is the proof, and the only proof, that the 
Spirit dwells in us. The fruit of the 
Spirit, say the Scriptures, is goodness and 
righteousness and truth. The fruit of the 
Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, 
gentleness, meekness, and temperance. 
The life, then, my friends, the life is the 
criterion and test by which we shall know 
if we are born of the Spirit. There are 
indeed other marks, easier attained, which 
some people have found out to themselves. 
A light within, a call from heaven, a secret 
voice, and an extraordinary impulse, these 
are often the effects not of a divine fervor, 
but of a weak understanding and a wild 
imagination, and often of something worse, 
even of arrant hypocrisy and unblushing 
impudence. These indeed are the marks 
of a spirit which hath often appeared in 
the world, but which is very different from 
the Spirit of God. These are the symp- 
toms of that intolerant and persecuting 
spirit, the offspring of darkness and of 
demons, which, excepting a few favorites, 
pursues the human race with unrelenting 



hatred in this world, and consigns them 
over to eternal pains in the next. This is 
a spirit which hath slain its thousands. 
Fire and sword mark its approach ; its 
steps are in the blood of the just, and it 
shakes the rod of extermination over the 
affrighted earth. But the Spirit of God 
is the Spirit of love. It fills us with af- 
fection and benevolence towards all our 
brethren of mankind. For he that dwell- 
eth in love, dwelleth in God, and God 
dwelleth in him. 

This doctrine of the Spirit dwelling in 
us, and assisting us to perform good 
works, furnisheth a strong argument for 
humility. Why boastest thou, 0 man? 
What hast thou which thou hast not re- 
ceived? From God descendeth every good 
and every perfect gift. We can do no- 
thing of ourselves, not even so much as 
to think a good thought. It is by the 
grace of God that we are what we are. 
He graciously accepts of our sincere en- 
deavors to please him ; and at last rewards 
those services, which by his grace he en- 
ables us to perform. Let us therefore be 
sensible of our own imperfections, and 
give all the praise to him. Let this stir 
us up to activity in our Christian course. 
The proper use and improvement of this 
doctrine is not to sit still and take our 
rest, because God gives us his Holy Spirit, 
but relying on the assistance of his Spirit 
to move forwards in our Christian race. 
Seeing God- worketh in you, therefore 
work out your salvation. Up therefore 
and be doing, seeing the Lord is with you. 
You not only act with the force of Provi- 
dence on your side ; you have not only 
the Captain of Salvation fighting with 
you ; but you have also his Spirit within 
you, leading you on to victory. 

In the last place, Let us express our 
gratitude and praise to this divine Guest, 
who vouchsafes to be our guide and our 
comforter ; let us be careful not to grieve 
and offend him by wicked actions, lest he 
withdraw himself from us ; and let us al- 
ways remember, that he who is a pure and 
holy Spirit, cannot dwell in polluted 
hearts, and in temples that are not his 
own. 



92 



SERMON XIX. 



SERMON XIX. 

ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 

Isaiah xxvi. 20. — " Come my people, enter thou 
into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about 
thee." 

Without viewing these words in connec- 
tion with what goes before or follows after, 
I shall consider them as containing an 
exhortation to religious retirement. Man 
was intended by his Creator for society. 
All the powers of his frame, the faculties 
of his mind, and the qualities of his heart, 
lead him to the social state as the state 
of his nature. But although man was 
made for action, he was also intended for 
contemplation. There is a time when 
solitude hath a charm for the soul ; when 
weary of the world, its follies and its 
cares, we love to be alone, to enter into 
our chamber, to shut the door about us, 
and in silence to commune with our heart. 
Such a retirement, when devoted to pious 
purposes, is highly useful to man, and 
most acceptable to God. Hence the holy 
men are represented in Scripture as giv- 
ing themselves to meditation ; hence Jesus 
Christ himself is described as sending the 
multitude away, and going apart to the 
mountain. 

An opinion once prevailed in the world, 
and in many parts of it still prevails, that 
all virtue consisted in such a'retreat ; that 
the perfection of the Christian life con- 
sisted in retiring from the world alto- 
gether, in withdrawing from human con- 
verse, in shutting ourselves up in the soli- 
tude of a cell, and passing our days in 
barren and unprofitable speculation. Such 
notions of a holy life have no foundation, 
in the word of God. Moses and the pro- 
phets, Jesus and the apostles themselves, 
acted a part in public life, and enjoin their 
disciples not to withdraw from the world, 
but to go about doing good ; not to wrap 
up their talent in a napkin, but to improve 
it by their industry ; not to put their light 
under a bushel, but to make it shine be- 
fore men. The retreat, therefore, which 
scripture recommends, is temporary, and 
not total ; it is not the retreat of a monk 
to his cell, or a hermit to his cave ; but 
of men living in the world, going out of it 



for a time, to return with greater improve- 
ment. To retire at times into the closet 
for these purposes, is of general obliga- 
tion upon all Christians. To induce you, 
therefore, to the practice of this duty, I 
shall now show you the advantages which 
thereby you may expect to reap. 

The advantages attending religious re- 
tirement are these : it takes off the im- 
pression which the neighborhood of evil 
example has a tendency to make upon the 
mind ; it is favorable for fixing pious pur- 
poses in the mind, and strengthening our 
habits of virtue ; it brings us to the know- 
ledge of ourselves ; it opens a source of 
new and better entertainment than we 
meet with in the world. 

In the first place, Religious retirement 
takes off the impression which the neigh- 
borhood of evil example has a tendency to 
make upon the mind. The world, my 
friends, is not in general a school of virtue, 
it is often the scene of vanity and vice. 
Corrupted manners, vicious deeds, evil 
communications, surround us on every 
side. From our first entrance into life, 
we become spectators of the vicious, and 
witnesses to the commission of sin. This 
presence of the wicked lessens our natural 
horror at a crime, it renders the idea of 
vice familiar to the mind, and insensibly 
lulls asleep that guarded circumspection 
which ought always to be awake. Besides 
this contagion of evil example, the un- 
happy proneness of men to imitate the 
manners of those with whom they live, 
adds strength to the temptations of the 
world. Our favorable opinion of the per- 
son extends to the action he commits, and 
by our fatal fondness of imitation, we do 
what we see done. Our way then in the 
world lies through snares and precipices ; 
we see and we hear at the peril of our 
souls. The contagion in which we live, 
transfuses itself into our own minds. 
How often is the purity of the closet lost 
amid the pollution of the world ! The 
good resolutions of the morning give way 
to bustle and business, or to the career of 
pleasure, and the day that began with in- 
nocence and devotion, ends in vanity and 
vice. Temptations in every form assault 
your innocence, and the adversary of your 
soul is for ever on the watch. One false 
step may send you to the bottom of the 



ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT 



93 



precipice. One word spoken in passion, 
hath given rise to quarrels that have lasted 
through life. A single glance of envy, of 
revenge, or of impure desire, hath raised 
a conflagration which could only be quench- 
ed by blood. To avoid the pollution with 
which the world is infected, to keep off 
the intrusion of vain and sinful thoughts, 
enter into thy chamber, and shut thy doors 
around thee. There the wicked cease 
from troubling, there the man who is 
wearied of the world is at rest. There 
the glare of external objects disappears, 
and the chains that bound you to the 
world are broken. There you shut out 
the strife of tongues, the impertinences of 
the idle, the lies of the vain, the scandal 
of the malicious, the slanders of the de- 
famer, and all that world of iniquity which 
proceeds from the tongue. In this asylum 
thy safety dwells. To thy holy retreat, 
an impure guest dares not approach. En- 
joying the blessed calm and serenity of 
thy own mind, thou hearest the tempest 
raging around thee and spending its 
strength ; the objects of sense being re- 
moved, the appetites which they excited, 
depart along with them. The scene 
being shifted, and the actors gone, the 
passions which they raised die away. 

In the second place, This devout retire- 
ment is favorable for fixing pious purposes 
in the mind, and strengthening our habits 
of virtue. We are so formed by the Author 
of our nature, that the material objects 
with which we are surrounded raise ideas 
in us, and make impressions upon us 
merely by their own nature, and without 
any assistance from ourselves. There are 
motions in the body which are involuntary 
and spontaneous, and there /are impres- 
sions in the mind which are as much out 
of our power. At the presence of certain 
objects, we feel certain passions whether 
we will or not ; we cannot command the 
emotions which arise in the mind; on 
many occasions we are merely passive to 
the influence of external things. When 
imminent danger threatens, or the shriek 
of jeopardy is heard, the heart throbs, the 
blood takes the alarm, and the spirits are 
agitated without our direction or consent. 
As the nature of the plant is affected by 
the soil where it grows ; as the nature of 
the animal is affected by the pasture where 



he ranges ; so the character of the man 
who never thinks, who never retires into 
himself, arises from the mode of life in 
which he is engaged. His mind is in sub- 
jection to the objects which surround 
him. He passes from object to object as 
the scene changes before him, and he is 
delivered over from passion to passion ac- 
cording to the events which vary his life. 
Thus in society we are in a great measure 
governed by accidents, and the mind is 
passive to the impressions which it re- 
ceives. 

But in solitude we are in a world of 
our own. We can call up what ideas, 
and converse with what objects we please. 
We can say to one desire, u Go," and to 
another, " Come." Dazzled no longer 
with the false glitter of the world, we 
open our eyes to the beauties of that bet- 
ter country which is a heavenly one; 
stunned no more with the noise of folly, 
we can listen in silence to the still small 
voice. Escaped from the broad way, we 
set out on the narrow path. That is the 
place, and then is the time to seal the 
useful truth, and to fix the pious purpose. 
Then you can best recollect your native 
strength, and stir up the grace of God 
which is in you. Then at leisure you can 
reflect by what temptations you were for- 
merly foiled, that you may guard against 
them in the time to come ; foreseeing the 
evil day, you will look out for the best 
support when it comes; and putting on 
the whole armor of God, you will be able 
to resist the fiery darts of the evil one, 
and to go forth conquering and to conquer. 
By these means "the good thoughts which 
were scattered up and down your life will 
be collected together, and settle in a fixed 
purpose of now obedience. The various 
rays thus converging into one, will kindle 
into a fervent flame. 

In the third place, By means of re- 
ligious retirement, thou wilt be brought 
to the knowledge of thyself. This is a 
part of our superiority to the other crea- 
tures, that we are not confined to present 
objects, that we can extend our view be- 
yond the province of sense, and turn our 
attention wherever we please, throughout 
the whole system of nature. The mind 
can arrest itself in its motion, and become 
the object of its own contemplation. The 



94 



SERMON XIX. 



noblest of sciences is to know ourselves. 
But however useful and important this 
study is, there is none with which we are 
so little acquainted. Delighting to wan- 
der abroad, and familiar every where, 
you are strangers at home, strangers to 
your own character, strangers to your own 
heart, strangers to all that is most im- 
portant for a rational creature to know. 
You give your thoughts to wander through 
the whole world ; on the wings of imagi- 
nation you fly from pole to pole ; but you 
never descend into yourself. For what 
reason art thou so averse to know thy- 
self? Because thou art afraid of losing 
thine own good opinion ; because thou 
wantest to impose upon thyself, and then 
to impose upon the world. For this 
cause, thou darest not appeal to thine 
own mind, thou darest not meet thy heart 
alone. Thou avoidest the light, lest thine 
evil deeds should be made manifest. 
Thou fliest from the God within, as Adam 
when he had fallen, fled from the Lord, 
because thou art afraid. What can be 
more suspicious than for reasonable crea- 
tures to decline the bar of reason ? What 
can be more shameful than for those who 
have an understanding, not to be able or 
willing to give an account of their actions 
to themselves ? What can be more re- 
proachful than for men to allow themselves 
in a course of life, which they have not 
the courage or the confidence to reflect 
upon ? 

Sinner ! deal plainly with thyself. If 
thou wert not ashamed of thyself, Why, 
in the name of the all-knowing God, 
sliouldst thou decline conversing with thy- 
self? If all were well at home, what 
should make thee so fond of rambling 
abroad, and losing the remembrance of 
thyself in a crowd of vain amusements ? 
Here, here is the cause of thy love of 
noise and hurry, and tumult and dissipa- 
tion, and perpetual diversions : thy aim is 
by this means to escape from thyself, to 
employ and divert thy mind, that it may 
not be forced upon such an ungrateful 
subject. Yet, here wisdom begins. Thou 
never canst ascend to the knowledge of 
Him, whom to know is life eternal, with- 
out knowing thyself ; and thou canst never 
know thyself, without retiring from the 



world, without stripping off whatever is 
artificial about thee, without throwing off 
the veil which thou wearest before men, 
and devoting thy secret hours to serious 
consideration. Enter then into thy cham- 
ber, shut the doors about thee, commune 
with thine own heart, be still, say with the 
Psalmist, " Search and try me, 0 Lord ; 
see if there be any evil way in me, and 
lead me in the way everlasting." 

In the fourth place, Retirement and 
meditation will open a source of new and 
better entertainment than you meet with 
in the world. You will^soon find that the 
world does not perform what it promises. 
The circle of earthly enjojmients is narrow 
and circumscribed, the career of sensual 
pleasure is soon run, and when the novelty 
is over, the charm is gone. Who has not 
felt the satiety and weariness of the king 
of Israel, when he cried out, " All is vanity 
and vexation of spirit ! " Unhappy is the 
man who in these cases has nothing with- 
in him to console him under his disap- 
pointment. Miserable is the man who 
has no resources within himself, who can- 
not enjoy his own company, who depends 
for happiness upon the next amusement, 
or the news of the day. 

But the wise man had treasures within 
himself. He has a spring shut up, and a 
fountain sealed. The hour of solitude is 
the hour of meditation. He communes 
with his heart alone. He reviews the ac- 
tions of his past life. He corrects what is 
amiss. He rejoices in what is right, and 
wiser by experience, lays the plan of his 
future life. The great and the noble, the 
wise and the learned, the pious and the 
good, have been lovers of serious retirement. 
On this field the patriot forms his schemes, 
the philosopher pursues his discoveries, 
the saint improves himself in wisdom and 
goodness. Solitude is the hallowed ground 
which religion in every age has adopted as 
its own. There her sacred inspiration is 
felt, and her holy mysteries elevate the 
soul; there devotion lifts up the voice: 
there falls the tear of contrition ; there 
the heart pours itself forth before Him who 
made, and Him who redeemed it. Apart 
from men, you live with Nature and con- 
verse with God. 



V 



ON THE UNHAPPY STATE OF THE WICKED. 



95 



SERMON XX. 

ON THE UNHAPPY STATE OF THE WICKED. 

Isaiah lvii.21. — "There is no peace, saith my 
God, to the wicked." 

It is universally agreed that the works of 
creation demonstrate the being and the attri- 
butes of the Deity. The invisible things of 
God, even his eternal power, his unerring 
wisdom and his infinite goodness, are every 
where legible throughout the great book of 
Nature. It is very astonishing, however, 
that many persons who from the creation 
of the world infer the existence and per- 
fections of the Deity, should, from the 
government of the world, infer the necessi- 
ty of a day of judgment to rectify the 
course of Providence, and vindicate the 
ways of God. The works of God must cer- 
tainly be uniform and of a piece. Accord 
ing to the representations of Sacred Scrip- 
ture, the day of judgment was not appoint- 
ed to account for the conduct of Providence, 
but to pass sentence on the actions of men. 
All the administrations of God are con- 
ducted with supreme wisdom and goodness. 
He is forever employing the power of his 
providence to favor the cause of righteous- 
ness, and to diffuse happiness over the 
world. When the blessed above sing the 
wonders of creating power, and cry out, 
" Great and marvellous ars thy works, 
Lord God Almighty ;" they also add, 
" Just and true are all thy ways, thou 
King of saints." If the Almighty is pos- 
sessed of infinite perfection ; if, as the 
Scriptures assert, he loveth righteousness 
and hateth iniquity, we may naturally in- 
fer it to be one of his eternal decrees, that 
righteousness and happiness, that sin and 
misery, must be inseparable in the course of 
things. 

Notwithstanding the force of the argu- 
ments that prove this truth, opinions pretty 
generally prevail to the contrary. Many 
persons are of opinion that the wicked 
man has more enjoyment in life than the 
good man has, that virtue exposes us to 
many evils, and that if it were not for a 
future state, Christians would be of all 
men the most miserable. The origin of 
this opinion it is not difficult to unfold. 
It is natural for men to judge of the course 



of things, by what happens in their own 
lot. When we are in a prosperous situa- 
tion, when the candle of the Lord shineth 
upon our heads, all nature puts on a face 
of beauty and wears a smiling appearance. 
But, when adversity and a train of afflic- 
tions come in their turn, the eye of the 
impatient sufferer tinctures every thing 
around him with its own baleful colors. 
To his disordered mind, darkness seems to 
involve the -system of nature, malignant 
demons to usurp the sceptre of Providence, 
and invade the throne of God. Hence 
the many complaints of good and holy men 
in sacred writ, that the righteous were cut 
off from the earth, whilst the wicked 
flourished like a green bay-tree. But 
these were not the maxims which governed 
their lives, they were only sudden excla- 
mations made in the moments of impa- 
tience under distress. The universal 
voice of Scripture is expressly on the 
other side. " Say ye to the wicked, It 
shall be ill with him ; say ye to the 
righteous, It shall be well with him. There 
is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked. 
Great peace have they who love the laws of 
the Lord." 

In further treating upon this subject, I 
shall endeavor to show you, that there is 
no peace or happiness to the wicked, 
whether you consider him as a subject of 
the divine government, as a member of 
society, or as an individual. 

In the first place, then, Let us consider 
the wicked in his religious capacity as a 
subject of the divine government. 

Religion is the distinguishing quality 
of our nature, and is one of the strongest 
features that marks the human character. 
As it is our distinguishing quality, so it 
possesses such extensive influence, that 
however overlooked bysuperficial inquirers, 
it has given rise to more revolutions in 
human society, and to more changes in 
human manners, than any one cause what- 
ever. View mankind in every situation, 
from the earliest state of barbarity, down 
through all the successive periods of civ- 
ilization, till they degenerate to barbarity 
again, and you will find them influenced 
strongly by the awe of superior spirits, or 
the dread of infernal fiends. In the hea- 
then world, where mankind had no divine 
revelation, but followed the impulse of 



96 



SERMON XX. 



nature alone, religion was often the basis 
of the civil government. Among all classes 
of men, the sacrifices, the ceremonies and 
the worship of the gods were held in the 
highest reverence. Judge what a strong 
hold religion must have taken of the hu- 
man heart, when, instigated by horror of 
conscience, the blinded wretch has sub- 
mitted to torture his own flesh before the 
shrine of the incensed Deity, and the fond 
father has been driven to offer up with his 
own hands his first-born for his transgres- 
sion, and the fruit of his body for the sin 
of his soul. It is possible to shake off the 
reverence, but not the dread, of a Deity. 
Amid the gay circle of his companions, in 
the hour of riot and dissipation, the fool 
may say in his heart that there is no God ; 
but his conscience will meet him when he 
is alone, and tell him that he is a liar. 
Heaven will avenge its quarrel on his 
head. Judge then, my brethren, how 
miserable it must be for a being made 
after the image of God. thus to have his 
glory turned into shame. How dismal 
must the situation be for a subject of the 
divine government to consider himself as 
acting upon a plan to counteract the de- 
crees of God, to defeat the designs of eter- 
nal Providence, to deface in himself the 
image and the lineaments of heaven, to 
maintain a state of enmity and war with 
his Creator, and to associate with the in- 
fernal spirits, whose abode is darkness and 
whose portion is despair ! 

Reflections upon such a state will give 
its full measure to the cup of trembling. 
Was not Belshazzar, the impious king of 
Babylon, a striking instance of what I am 
now saying ? This monarch made' a feast 
to a thousand of his lords, and assembled 
his princes, his concubines and his wives. 
In order to increase the festivity, he sent 
for the consecrated vessels which his father 
Nebuchadnezzar had taken from the tem- 
ple of Jerusalem, and in these vessels, 
which were holy to the Lord, he made li- 
bations to his vain idols, and in his heart 
bade defiance to the God of Israel. But, 
whilst thus he defied the living God, forth 
came the fingers of a man's hand, and on 
the wall, which had lately resounded with 
joy, wrote the sentence of his fate ! In a 
moment his countenance was changed, his 
whole frame shook, and his knees smote 



one against another, whilst the prophet in 
awful accents denounced his doom : " 0 
man, thy kingdom is departing from thee ! " 
Although Providence should not now par- 
ticularly interpose to punish thee, 0 
guilty man ! yet the sentence of thy doom 
is written in thy heart, and there is a pro- 
phet within, who upon the commission of 
crimes will tell thee, that for these the 
kingdom of heaven is departed from thee. 

In the second place, As wickedness 
makes a man miserable in his religious 
character, so does it also in his social. 

However corrupted men may be in their 
lives, their moral sentiments are just and 
right ; that is, although from an immo- 
derate self-love we may excuse wickedness 
in ourselves, yet such is the force of con- 
science within, so deeply rooted in the 
mind is the eternal difference between 
good and evil, that by the very frame of 
our natures, we abhor wickedness in 
others. When we are conversant in the 
world, or give our attention to a story 
that is a faithful picture of human man- 
ners, from the impulse of natural feeling, 
we attach ourselves to the side of inno- 
cence, we take part with the virtuous hero, 
and consider his enemies as our own. 
There is no vice but what tends to make 
a man contemptible or odious to society. 
Against the greater and more atrocious 
crimes, the sword of the law is forever 
drawn, and its stroke is death. Other 
vices which come not under the cognizance 
of the laws, either have ways of punishing 
themselves, or are marked with public in- 
famy. Pride makes every affront a tor- 
ment, and puts a man's happiness in the 
power of every fool he meets with. The 
envious man is literally his own tormentor, 
and preys upon his own bowels. The 
drunkard exposes himself to the derision 
of mankind, and falls into follies that 
cover him with shame in his sober hours. 
Does not a habit of intoxication deprive a 
man of all sense of decency, indispose 
him for the business of life, and render 
him a sorrow to all his friends ? Will the 
atheist conciliate the love of men by show- 
ing us that he possesses not the fear of 
God ? Is not the miser pointed at with 
the finger of scorn, and doomed to the 
double curse of hoarding and guarding? 
Is not a liar universally odious, and does 



ON THE UNHAPPY STATE OF THE WICKED. 



97 



he not prepossess us against him even 
when he speaks truth ? Do not fraud and 
dishonesty mar a man's fortune, ruin his 
reputation, and hinder his success in life ? 

In truth, my brethren, there is not a 
sin but what one way or other is punished 
in this life. We often err egregiously by 
not attending to the distinction between 
happiness and the means of happiness. 
Power, riches and prosperity, those means 
of happiness and sources of enjoyment, in 
the course of providence are sometimes 
conferred upon the worst of men. Such 
persons possess the good things of life, 
but they do not enjoy them. They have 
the means of happiness, but they have not 
happiness itself. A wicked man can never 
be happy. It is the firm decree of Hea- 
ven, eternal and unchangeable as Jehovah 
himself, that misery must ever attend on 
guilt, that when sin enters, happiness 
takes its departure. There is no "such 
thing in nature, my brethren, there is no 
such thing in nature, as a vicious or un- 
lawful pleasure. What we generally call 
such, are pleasures in themselves lawful, 
procured by wrong means, or enjoyed in a 
wrong way ; procured by injustice, or en- 
joyed with intemperance ; and surely nei- 
ther injustice nor intemperance have any 
charm for the mind ; and unless we are 
framed with a very uncommon temper of 
mind and body, injustice will be hurtful 
to the one, and intemperance fatal to the 
other. Unruly desires, and bad passions, 
the gratification of which is sometimes 
called pleasure, are the source of almost 
all the miseries in human life. When 
once indulged, they rage for repeated gra- 
tification, and subject us, at all times, to 
their clamors and importunity. When 
they are gratified, if they give any joy, it 
is the joy of fiends, the joy of the torment- 
ed, a joy which is purchased at the ex- 
pense of a good conscience, which rises on 
the ruins of the public peace, and proceeds 
from the miseries of our fellow-creatures. 
The forbidden fruit proves to be the ap- 
ples of Sodom and the grapes of Gomor- 
rah. One deed of shame is succeeded by 
years of penitence and pain. A single in- 
dulgence of wrath has raised a conflagra- 
tion which neither the force of friendship, 
nor length of time, nor the vehemence of 
intercession, could mitigate or appease. 



and which could only be quenched by the 
effusion of human blood. One drop from 
the cup of this powerful sorceress, has 
turned the living stream of joy into waters 
of bitterness. " There is no peace, saith 
my God, to the wicked." 

If a wicked man could be happy, Who 
might have been so happy as Haman? 
Raised from an inferior station to great 
riches and power, exalted above his rivals, 
and above the princes of the empire, fa- 
vorite and prime minister to the greatest 
monarch in the world. But with all these 
advantages on his side, and under all 
these smiles of fortune, his happiness was 
destroyed by the want of a bow, usual to 
those of his station, from one of the por- 
ters of the palace. Enraged with this ne- 
glect, this vain great man cried oat in the 
pang of disappointment, " All this availeth 
me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai sit- 
ting at the king's gate." This seeming 
affront sat deep on his mind. He medi- 
tated revenge. A single victim could not 
satisfy his malice. He wanted to have a 
glutting vengeance. He resolved, for this 
purpose, to involve thousands in destruc- 
tion, and to make, a whole nation fall a sa- 
crifice to the indulgence of his mean-spi- 
rited pride. But, as it generally happens, 
his wickedness proves his ruin, and he 
erected the gallows on which he himself 
was doomed to be hanged ! 

In the third place, If we consider man 
as an individual, we shall see a further 
confirmation of the truth contained in the 
text, " That there is no peace to the wicked." 

In order to strengthen the obligations 
to virtue, Almighty God hath rendered 
the practise of sin fatal to our peace as in- 
dividuals, as well as pernicious to our in- 
terests as members of society. From the 
sinner God withdraws his favor and the 
light of his countenance. How dark will 
that mind be, which no beam from the- 
Father of lights ever visits ! How joy- 
less that heart which the spirit of life 
never animates ! When sin entered into 
paradise, the angels of God forsook the 
place. So from the soul that is polluted 
with guilt, peace and joy and hope, those 
good angels, vanish and depart. What 
succeeds to this family of heaven ? Con.~ 
fusion, shame, remorse, despair. 

Ccetera desunt. 



98 



SERMON XXI. 



SERMON XXI. 

ON OBEDIENCE TO THE DIVINE LAW. 

Psalm Lxxxvra. 1. — " Give ear, 0 my people, to 
my law." 

This is the. call which God addressed to 
his ancient people, and which at sundry 
times and in divers manners he addresses* 
to the world. It is the voice of the Al- 
mighty to mankind in every age. His 
voice all nature hears, and his law all na- 
ture obeys. The sun moves in the path 
marked out to him by his Creator ; the 
moon keeps her appointed course, and the 
host of heaven proceed from age to age in 
their original beauty. The seasons know 
their time, and the earth obeys the law 
impressed upon it at first. The elements 
confess their Lord ; the tempest hears his 
voice, and the sea submits to the mandate 
which said, " Hitherto shalt thou come, 
and no farther ; here shall thy waves be 
staid." The orders of celestial spirits, 
the principalities and powers of heaven, 
obey the command of their King, minister 
to the purposes of his providence, and in 
acts of goodness, or on errands of mercy, 
perform his pleasure. 

Throughout all nature, one being alone 
is deaf to the voice and disobedient to 
the command of God, that is, the sinner. 
He alone has departed from his sphere, 
has rebelled against the law of his nature, 
and rejected the universal dominion of the 
Deity in the universe. To recall him 
from this rebellious state, to replace him 
in his original station, and restore him 
again to the kingdom of God, is the end of 
true religion. For this purpose Moses 
and the prophets were inspired, Jesus and 
the apostles were sent. For this purpose 
the heaven was opened, the Almighty ap- 
peared, and the voice uttered to the world, 
" Give ear, my people, to my law." 

Your obligation to obey this law will 
appear, if you consider that it is the law 
of your nature, that it is the law of hea- 
ven, that it is the law of society, and the 
law of happiness. 

In the first place, It is the law of your 
nature. 

When God created man, he did not 



leave him to act at random, or to live in a 
state of anarchy. He gave him a law, the 
emanation of eternal wisdom and the 
transcript of Divine perfection. The 
same fingers that upon Mount Sinai wrote 
the commandments upon tables of stone, 
had written them beforehand upon the 
living tables of the human heart. The 
foundation of morality is laid deep in hu- 
man nature ; its principles result from the 
constitution of our frame ; and its autho- 
rity will be supreme, while there is a mind 
to discern, or a heart to feel, or a con- 
science to judge. Darkness is not more 
different from light, nor bitter from sweet, 
than good is from evil, and virtue from 
vice. You are no more masters of the 
emotions that rise in the mind, than of 
the sensations which rise in the body. You 
can no more give the law to internal na- 
ture than to external nature. You may 
as well call the sun to come down from 
the firmament, as aim to extingish the 
light of heaven which shines in the breast. 
Inferior animals are incapable of morality. 
They have no law but instinct ; they are 
left to obey the call of appetite, and to 
follow blindly the prevailing impulse. But 
it is not so with man. Reason is his law; 
and the dictate of virtue is the dictate of 
nature. The question with him is not, 
what is the call of appetite ? but, what is 
the voice of reason ? Not what is the 
prevailing impulse ? but, what is the im- 
pulse which ought to prevail ? 

If, therefore, you disown the obligation 
of this law, you renounce your nature and 
unman yourself. If you claim an exemp- 
tion from the authority of reason and sen- 
timent and conscience ; if you take the 
license to indulge every appetite and every 
passion without restraint or control; you 
may ; — but first come down from your 
rank in the scale of being ; break off all 
intercourse with rational creatures ; de- 
part from the society of men ; go to your 
equals ; herd with the animals of the 
field, and eat grass with the brutes that 
perish : there display humanity degraded : 
exhibit thyself a monument of folly and 
guilt, to be pointed at by the hand of 
scorn, and to be shunned like the pesti- 
lence. If ever, like the Monarch of Bab- 
ylon, thou shalt rise from thy degraded 
state; if ever thine understanding shall 



ON OBEDIENCE TO 



THE DIVINE LAW. 



99 



return, and thou shalt be able to lift up 
thine eyes to heaven, like him thou wilt 
praise and extol and glorify the King of 
heaven, and give ear to that law which he 
promulgates to the armies in heaven and 
to the inhabitants of the earth. 

In the second place, Your obligation 
to obey this law will further appear when 
you consider that it is the law of Heaven. 

It comes to you not only recommended 
by your own authority, but it comes en- 
forced by a higher authority, that of God 
himself. The appearances of the Almigh- 
ty to confirm the law, the prophets and 
the gospel, were made for the instruction 
and improvement of those who saw them, 
and are recorded for the instruction and 
improvement of those who read them. 

The mighty God, even the Lord, hath 
spoken, and called the earth from the 
rising of the sun to where he goeth down. 
The first promulgation of the law was 
from Mount Sinai. To strike a rude and 
barbarous people, to reclaim a perverse 
and obstinate generation, it was requisite 
that the arm of power should be stretched 
out, and. that the majesty of terror should 
be displayed. Accordingly, when the law 
was given from Sinai, there was blackness 
and darkness and tempest ; there were 
thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud 
upon the mount ; and when Moses brought 
the people from the camp to meet with 
God, they trembled as one man ; and hill 
Sinai was altogether on a flame, and the 
smoke thereof went up as the smoke of a 
furnace, for the Lord descended upon it in 
fire, and the mountain quaked ; and when 
the voice of the trumpet sounded long, 
and waxed louder and louder, God called 
Moses up to the top of the- mount, and 
gave the law. 

The same precepts that were given up- 
on Mount Sinai, Jesus Christ came to 
confirm and to extend. At his first pub- 
lic appearance, in his sermon on the mount, 
he republished, restored and perfected the 
law. The new dispensation indeed was 
different from the old. The God of Abra- 
ham dwelt in darkness, and was clothed 
with terror. The God and Father of our 
Lord Jesus Christ dwells in the light, 
and is clothed with grace. Miracles of 
power confirmed the one; miracles of 
grace distinguished the other. We come 



not to Mount Sinai, but to Mount Zion. 
At the publishing of the gospel no fire de- 
scended, no thunders rolled ; at the pub- 
lishing of the gospel, when our Saviour, 
being baptized, entered upon his ministry, 
the heaven was opened over his head, the 
Spirit descended upon him in the form of 
a dove, the messenger of peace, and a voice 
came from the overshadowing cloud, " This 
is my beloved Son in whom I am well 
pleased." Revelation then concurs with 
reason in establishing the law, and to the 
voice of nature is added the voice of God. 
Such an authority you will not despise. 
You will not join with the impious king 
of Egypt, who hardened his heart, and said, 
" Who is the Lord that I should obey his 
voice ?" 

In the third place, Our obligation to 
obey the law will be further manifest, 
when we consider that it is the law of 
society. 

That righteousness exalteth a nation, 
and that vice is not only a reproach but 
also a depression to any people, are truths 
so universally received as to require no 
confirmation. All lawgivers in all ages 
have thought so, and made it their object 
to cultivate justice and temperance and 
fortitude and industry, conscious that pub- 
lic virtue is the source of public happiness. 
Philosophers and moralists have been of 
the same opinion ; and have taught, with 
one consent, that the good morals of the 
people were the stability of the govern- 
ment, and the true source of public pros- 
perity. Practice and experience have 
confirmed the truth of these speculations. 
If we consult the history of the most re- 
nowned nations that have made a figure 
in the world, we shall find that they rose 
to greatness by virtue, and sunk into con- 
tempt through vice ; that they obtained 
dominion by their temperance and probity 
of manners, and a serious regard to re- 
ligion, and when they grew dissolute, 
corrupted and profane, they became slaves 
to their neighbors, whom they were no 
longer worthy to govern. Public depra- 
vity paves the way for public ruin. When 
the health and vigor of the political con- 
stitution is broken, it is hastening to its 
decline. When internal symptoms of weak- 
ness appear, the least external violence 
will accomplish its dissolution. 



100 



SERMON XXII. 



It is a duty, then, which we owe to 
society and to our country, to observe 
the rules of righteousness; for in order 
to be good members of society and true 
patriots, we must be virtuous men. 

To show your obligation to give ear to 
this law, let us, in the last place, consider 
that it is the law of happiness. 

This, in some measure, follows from 
what has been already said ; for if virtue 
be necessary to the happiness of public 
societies, it is also necessary to the hap- 
piness of private families and of private 
men, unless we can suppose the body politic 
to be nourishing, while every individual is 
in misery and distress. In consulting for 
others, all agree that virtue leads to hap- 
piness; but if for others, why not for 
you ? When you consult for them, you 
have no passions to darken your under- 
standing and perplex your judgment. 
When you consider with coolness and 
with candor, the observation and ex- 
perience that all of us have had oc- 
casion to make, it will be sufficient to con- 
vince you, that the law of the Lord is 
truly favorable to the interests and friend- 
ly to the happiness of man ; that it cor- 
responds to the just dictates of the mind, 
and consults the best affections of the 
heart. What does it forbid ? Desires, pas- 
sions and vices, from which for our own 
sakes we should abstain, though there was 
no such prohibition. It forbids the grati- 
fication of desires which would lead us to 
ruin ; the indulgence of passions which are 
the troubles of human life, and the source 
of our greatest misery; the commission 
of vices which waken remorse, and deliver 
us up to the tormentors. What does the 
law of the Lord command ? What is love- 
ly and pure and praise-worthy ; what tends 
to make men peaceable, gentle, humane, 
merciful, benevolent and happy. 



SERMON XXII. 

ON JESUS CHRIST DYING FOR SINNERS. 

Romans v. 7, 8. — " For scarcely for a righteous 
man will one die; yet peradventure for a good 
man some would even dare to die. But God 
commendeth his love towai^d us, in that, 
while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." 

The Apostle Paul, the author of this 
epistle, was bred at the feet of Gamaliel, 
and instructed in all the learning of the 
J ews. To his Hebrew literature he super- 
added the erudition of the Gentiles ; for 
we find him in his epistles quoting their 
celebrated authors, and alluding to their 
remarkable customs and the events in their 
history. These verses which I have now 
read, carry an illusion and reference to a 
distinction of characters which prevailed 
among the Jews, and to some illustrious 
actions performed by the Romans, to 
whom he addressed this epistle. 

The Jews distinguished men with res- 
pect to their characters, into sinners, just 
men, and good men. Sinners are those 
who violate the laws of God and man, who 
disturb the public peace, and are bad mem- 
bers of society. A just man is one who does 
no injury to his neighbor, who pays his debts, 
who conforms to the letter of the law, and 
who is not deficient in any of the great duties 
of life. A good man is one who goes far- 
ther ; who is not only innocent but useful, 
who is not only decent but exemplary, 
who is generous, beneficent, public-spirit- 
ed ; who sacrifices his ease, his pleasure, 
his safety, and, when his country calls for 
it, who sacrifices his life for the public 
good. Such was the character of this 
apostle himself. In order to propagate the 
Christian religion among the nations, the 
greatest blessing of God to the world, in 
order to diffuse the knowledge of this re- 
ligion, he gave up all that was dear in life, 
undertook long and hazardous journeys, 
exposed himself to the dangers of the 
deep, to the chains of captivity, to the 
sword of the persecutor, to the derision 
and hatred of Jews and Gentiles. Ac- 
cordingly, he met with this return, which 
he here mentions as being sometimes 
made to superior goodness ; for we read in 
the sixteenth chapter of this epistle, that 



ON JESUS CHRIST DYING FOR SINNERS. 



101 



he found persons who for his life wo aid 
have laid down their own. 

The apostle also in these verses alludes 
to some illustrious actions performed 
by the Romans, to whom he addresses 
this epistle. The love of their country 
was the darling passion of that great peo- 
ple. All the soul went out in this gener- 
ous ardor, and every private affection 
flowed in the channel of the public wel- 
fare. Judge what a strong hold it must 
have taken of the heart, when it glowed 
even in the female breast ; when the wife 
encouraged the husband, and the mother 
exhorted the son, to die for their country. 
It was a principle in the breast of every 
Roman, that he owed his life to his coun- 
try. This being the spirit of the people, 
gave birth to many illustrious and heroic 
actions. The spirit of patriotism glowed 
among the people for many ages of the re- 
public ; one hero sprung from the ashes 
of another ; and great men arose from age 
to age, who devoted themselves to death 
for the public good. These being the 
most celebrated actions in the history of 
mankind, the apostle here compares them 
with the death of Jesus Christ. Follow- 
ing the train of thought suggested by the 
apostle, I shall show you the infinite su- 
periority of that love which prompted Je- 
sus to die for the sins of the world, to that 
patriotism which prompted the heroes and 
great men of old to die for their friends 
or for their country. 

In the first place, then, Those who de- 
voted themselves to death for their friends 
or their country, submitted to a fate 
which they must one day have suffered. 
But Jesus Christ, who is the true God 
and possesseth eternal life, submitted to 
death for our redemption. 

We are allborn mortal creatures. Sprung 
from the dust, we return to the dust again. 
The sentence of the Lord, is passed upon 
all flesh, and there is no exemption from 
the law of mortality. We know not 
how soon our last hour may come. The 
darts of death are continually on the 
wing ; the arrow of destruction flieth by 
night, and smiteth at noon-day ; victims 
are daily falling at our right hand and at 
our left, and we know not how soon we too 
may fall a sacrifice. He, therefore, who ex- 
poses himself to danger, or devotes himself 



to death for the good of others, only an- 
ticipates the evil day, only resigns a life 
which he must soon part with, and sub- 
mits to a doom which sooner or later he 
must lay his account to endure. But Je- 
sus Christ was the King eternal and im- 
mortal. His outgoings were from ever- 
lasting, and he is G-od blessed forever. 
He would have remained happy in himself, 
happy in the contemplation and enjoyment of 
his own perfections, happy in the admin- 
istration and government of the moral 
world, though he had never cast an eye of 
pity upon mortal man. He would have 
inherited the praises of eternity though 
man had never been redeemed. Yet for 
our sakes he left the glories of the hea- 
vens, he veiled his Divinity in a form of 
flesh, he took our nature with all its in- 
firmities upon him, he submitted to every 
affliction which embitters human life, and 
he suffered an excrutiating, an ignomini- 
ous and an accursed death. For the sal- 
vation and the happiness of the world 
which he had made, the King of kings ap- 
peared in the form of a servant, and the 
Lord of life was crucified at J erusalem. 
A crown of thorns was put on that head 
where the diadem of nature was wont to 
sit. Where is the deed of human virtue 
that can stand in comparison with this 
meritorious exertion of the Divine benev- 
olence ? All the perfection of created 
nature fades before it, and is but a foil 
to set off the brightness of redeeming 
love. 

In the second place, Those, among 
the sons of men who devoted themselves 
to death for the good of others, made 
the sacrifice for their friends, for those by 
whom they were beloved ; but Jesus died 
for his enemies. 

We are united to our friends by the 
strongest ties of affection, we are interest- 
ed in all that befalls them, and adopt their 
joys or their sorrows. Long habits of 
attachment, and a mutual intercourse of 
good offices, draw close the cords of friend- 
ship, and make them twine with every 
string of life. Hence we are fellow-suf- 
ferers with our friends in distress, we are 
afflicted in all their afflictions, so that suf- 
fering a great temporal evil for them, is in 
reality removing a load from our own 
minds. Thus strongly are we attached to 



102 



SERMON" XXII. 



our friends, nor is the charm less which 
binds us to the community. The sacred 
name of country, strikes us with venera- 
tion ; we feel an enthusiasm for our native 
land ; when it is in danger, hardships are 
cheerfully undergone, and death scarce 
appears an evil in such a glorious cause. 
Such inducements there are to him who 
dies for his friends or his country. But 
Jesus died for the redemption of his ene- 
mies, for those who threw off their allegi- 
ance to him, who rebelled against his au- 
thority, and rose up in arms against their 
benefactor. Their groans would never 
have reached his ear, nor afflicted his 
heart, had he not graciously inclined to 
sympathize. The misery of mankind would 
never have disturbed the happiness of the 
Divine nature, would never have thrown a 
cloud over the serenity of the heavens, 
nor made a pause in the alleluiahs of the 
blessed, had he not chosen to bear their 
sorrows. It was unmerited goodness, it 
was sovereign mercy, it was pure benevo- 
lence, it was love truly divine, that moved 
him to interpose in our behalf. He saw 
the race of men on the very brink of de- 
struction, he saw the bottomless pit just 
opening to swallow them up, and in the 
moment of danger, the Redeemer appear- 
ed, gracious to pity, mighty to save. A 
cloud had long been gathering over the 
nations, the hand of the Omnipotent was 
stretched out in wrath, the thunder of his 
power was ready to burst over a devoted 
world ; when the Patron and the interces- 
sor of the human race stepped in, and 
stayed the avenging arm with the words 
of mercy ; " Lo I come to do thy will. 
Sacrifice and burnt-offerings thou dost not 
desire. On me let thine anger fall. Let 
me die that these may live." 

In the third place, He who dies a 
martyr for the public good, departs with 
honor; but Jesus made his departure 
with ignominy and shame. 

It is honorable, it is glorious, to die for 
the public good. He who falls a martyr 
to the happiness of mankind, is supported 
by the native fortitude of the soul, is car- 
ried forward by the consciousness of a 
good cause, is encouraged with the ad- 
miration and applause of the world, and 
becomes famous to all succeeding times. 
To him the temple of fame spontaneous 



opens its gate, his name is repeated with 
applause, honors are paid to his memory, 
and he is the heir of perpetual praise. 
Circumstances of such a nature take away 
the terror of death. The secret con- 
sciousness of a great soul, the approach 
of an event which is so glorious in itself, 
and so beneficial to the world, the antici- 
pation of the praises of succeeding times, 
exalt the man, and fill him with the eleva- 
tion and magnanimity of virtue. Few en- 
joyments in life can be compared with a 
death so glorious. But Jesus Christ sub- 
mitted to the ignominious death of the 
cross. The greatest trial and exercise of 
virtue, is when an innocent man submits 
to the imputation of a crime that others 
may be free from the punishment. This 
our Lord did. In his life he was brand- 
ed with the blackest names, and accused 
of the most flagitious crimes ; branded 
with the name of publican and sinner, 
accused of associating with the profligate, 
and of being in compact with the powers 
of darkness. But at his latter end, in a 
peculiar manner, he endured the shame. 
He was betrayed like an impostor by one 
of his own disciples, apprehended like a 
robber by a band of soldiers, led like a 
malefactor through the streets of Jeru- 
salem, nailed like a murderer to the ac- 
cursed tree, and in the sight of Israel died 
the death of a traitor and a slave, that he 
might atone for the real guilt of men. In 
all these respects the merit of Jesus was 
infinitely superior to the heroism of men. 
As the heavens are higher than the earth, 
as the Most High God excels the offspring 
of the dust, so much superior was his love 
to their beneficence. 

To conclude, Let me ask you, my breth- 
ren, what impression does the love of Jesus 
make upon your hearts, what influence 
does it exert upon your lives? They 
whose minds are dazzled with the idea of 
false glory, with arms and conquests and 
fields of battle, and triumphal processions 
and songs of victory, may not be disposed 
to relish those acts of heroism which have 
nothing of the sword in them. But to 
the mind that is freed from vulgar pre- 
judice, and acquainted with true glory, 
the triumphs of Jesus will appear the 
greater that they are the triumphs of 
peace, that they were not obtained at the 



ON THE CHARACTER 



OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 



103 



expense of slaughtered thousands, nor 
erected on the ruin of nations, but rose on 
the basis of general happiness, and everlast- 
ing life to all good men. 

Are you then actuated with a proper 
sense of gratitude to this Captain of our 
salvation? The temporal hero and de- 
liverer is received with a tribute of ap- 
plause : every heart beats with admira- 
tion, and every tongue is vocal in his 
praise. Let us also celebrate the Prince 
of Peace, the Redeemer of our fallen race, 
who delivered us from everlasting wrath, 
and opened a way to the heavens by the 
blood of his cross. Beautified with his 
salvation, let us rejoice in the Saviour, 
saying mth the apostle, " God forbid that 
I should glory, save in the cross of Jesus 
Christ." Let us also love Him who first 
loved us. Let us give the chief place in 
our hearts to that Divine Friend of man- 
kind, whose affection to us was stronger 
than death. 



SERMON XXIII. 

ON THE CHARACTER OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 

Ppoyerbs xn. 26. — " The righteous is more ex- 
cellent than his neighbor. " 

The sentiments of men concerning virtue, 
and their own particular practice, form a 
very strange and striking contrast. Not- 
withstanding their own irregular or im- 
perfect conduct, a general feeling, with re- 
gard to morality, pervades the human 
species. Philosophers have differed about 
the origin of moral distinctions, and de- 
livered various theories concerning virtue ; 
but the people who judge from their feel- 
ings, have no system but one ; and when- 
ever right and wrong become the subject 
of decision, if the fact be fully explained, 
the voice of mankind is uniform and con- 
stant. 

Without this moral sense or sentiment, 
the question with regard to virtue had 
never been started at all, nor exercised 
the ingenuity of the greatest and best 
spirits in every age of the world. For, in- 
dependent of the national religions, men 
arose among the heathens who strove to 



improve or reform their countrymen, the 
lights of one age shone to another, the 
great and the good not only left their ex- 
ample, but lifted up their voice to ages 
which were to come. 

Religion gives its powerful sanction to 
the maxims of morality, and this volume 
was written to republish that law which is 
engraven on the heart. 

The book from which these words are 
taken, was the work of a great king who 
sometimes left the throne to adorn it the 
more, and, retiring from the splendid 
follies of a court, consecrated his hours to 
the benefit of all posterity. It was ad- 
dressed by Solomon to his son, and con- 
tains such ideas of religion, and urges such 
motives to virtue, as are most effectual 
with the young, representing them as the 
perfection of human nature, and the true 
excellence of man. " The righteous (says 
he) is more excellent than his neighbor." 
With great propriety is this picture set 
before the young; for the love of ex- 
cellence is natural to the youthful mind. 
What is manly, what is generous, what is 
honorable, are then the objects of admira- 
tion and pursuit ; fired with noble emula- 
tion, each ingenuous disciple aspires to be 
more excellent than his neighbor. 

The objections against a holy life have 
proceeded on maxims directly contrary to 
the text. The inducements to vice, which 
have been powerful in all ages, are the 
same that were presented by the tempter 
to our first parents. Wisdom was pro- 
mised, " Ye shall be wise to know good 
and evil;" the attractions of ambition 
were presented, "Ye shall.be as gods ; " 
the allurements of pleasure were added, 
and the forbidden fruit recommended as 
"good for food and pleasant to the eye." 
If in opposition to these it shall be shown, 
that the righteous man is wiser, and 
greater, and happier, than his neighbor, 
the objections against religion will be re- 
moved, the ways of Providence will be 
vindicated, and virtue established upon an 
everlasting foundation. 

In the first place, The righteous man is 
wiser than his neighbor. 

There is no part of his nature in which 
man is so earnest to excel, and so jealous 
of a defect, as his understanding. Men 
will give up any part of their frame sooner 



104 



SERMON XXIIL 



than this ; they will subscribe to many in- 
firmities and errors, they will confess a 
want of temper, and the proper govern- 
ment of their passions, they will even ad- 
mit deviations with regard to the lesser 
moralities, but never yield the smallest 
iota in what respects their intellectual 
abilities. 

No wonder that man is jealous of his 
understanding, for it is his prerogative 
and his glory. This draws the line be- 
tween the animal and the intellectual 
world, ascertains our rank in the scale of 
being, and not only raises us above inferior 
creatures, but makes us approach to a na- 
ture which is divine. This enters into 
the foundation of character, for without 
intellectual abilities, moral qualities can- 
not subsist, and a good heart will go 
wrong without the guidance of a good un- 
derstanding. Without the direction and 
the government of wisdom, courage de- 
generates into rashness, justice hardens 
into rigor, and benevolence becomes an 
indiscriminate good nature, or a blamable 
facility of manners. Where then is wis- 
dom to be found, and what is the path of 
understanding ? If you will trust the 
dictates of religion and reason, to be vir- 
tuous is to be wise. The testimony of all 
who have gone before you, confirms the 
decision. In opposition, however, to the 
voice of religion, of reason, and of man- 
kind, there are multitudes in every age 
who reckon themselves more excellent 
than their neighbors, by trespassing 
against the laws which ail ages have 
counted sacred, the younger by the pur- 
suit of criminal gratification, the old 
by habits of deceit and fraud. 

The early period of life is frequently a 
season of delusion. When youth scatters 
its blandishments, and the song of pleasure 
is heard, " Let us crown ourselves with 
rose-buds before they are withered, and 
let no flower of the spring pass away ; " 
the inexperienced and the unwary listen 
to the sound, and surrender themselves to 
the enchantment. Not satisfied with those 
just and masculine joys which nature offers 
and virtue consecrates, they rush into the 
excesses of unlawful pleasure : not satis- 



fied with those fruits bordering the path 
of virtue, which they may taste and live, 
they put forth their hand to the forbidden 
tree. One criminal indulgence lays the 
foundation for another, till sinful pleasure 
becomes a pursuit that employs all the 
faculties, and absorbs all the time of its 
votaries. 

There is no moderation nor government 
in vice. Desires that are innocent may be 
indulged with innocence ; pleasures that 
are pure may pe pursued with purity, and 
the round of guiltless delights may be 
made without encroaching on the great 
duties of life. But guilty pleasures be- 
come the masters and tyrants of the mind ; 
when these lords acquire dominion, they 
bring all the thoughts into captmty, and 
rule with unlimited and despotic sway. 

Look around you. Consider the fate of 
your equals in age, who have been swept 
away, not by the hand of time, but by the 
scythe of intemperance, and involved in 
the shade of death. Contemplate that 
cloud which vests the invisible world, 
where their mansion is fixed for ever. 
When the sons of the Siren call you tc the 
banquet of vice, stop in the midst of this 
career, pause on the brink, look down, and 
while yet one throb belongs to virtue, turn 
back from the verge of destruction. Think 
of the joyful morning that rises after 
victory over sin, reflection thy friend, 
memory stored with pleasant images, thy 
thoughts like good angels announcing 
peace and presaging joy. 

Or, if that will not suffice, turn to the 
shades of the picture, and behold the ruin 
that false pleasure introduces into human 
nature. Behold a rational being arrested 
in his course. A character that might have 
shone in public and in private life, cast 
into the shades of oblivion ; a name that 
might have been uttered with a tear, and 
left as an inheritance to a race to come, 
consigned to the roll of infamy. All that 
is great in human nature sacrificed at the 
shrine of sensual pleasure in this world, 
and the candidate for immortality in the 
next, plunged into the irremediable gulf 
of folly, dissipation and endless#misery. 

C cetera desunt. 



RELIGION" AN ANTIDOTE TO THE DANGERS OF THE WORLD. 



105 



SERMON XXIV. 

RELIGION AN ANTIDOTE TO THE DANGERS 
AND TEMPTATIONS OF THE WORLD. , 

Daniel xi. 32. — "The people that do know their 
God shall be strong." 

The follies and vices which disfigure hu- 
man life, do not always proceed from a 
principle of depravity. The thoroughly 
abandoned, who sin from forethought and 
contrivance, who commit iniquity upon a 
fixed plan, and who are wicked merely from 
a love of wickedness, I hope and believe 
are not a numerous class. The indiscre- 
tions and vices into which men fall, I am 
apt to imagine proceed often from a weak- 
ness of mind rather than from a badness 
of heart. There is a certain feebleness in 
the springs of actions, a facility of disposi- 
tion, a silliness of soul, which marks the 
character, and runs through the life of many 
men, as pernicious to them in the conduct 
of life, as a principle of actual depravity 
could be. Persons of this class, properly 
speaking, sustain no character at all. They 
assert not the rights of an independent be- 
ing, they make no original efforts of mind, 
but patiently surrender themselves to acci- 
dent, to be guided by events, and to be 
fashioned by those with whom they live. 
They have not strength of mind to stand 
alone, they dare not walk in a path unless 
it is beaten. Feebleness, fluctuation, tim- 
idity, irresolution, fill up the period of 
their insignificant days, and often betray 
them into crimes as well as indiscretions. 
This weakness of the mind is not only per- 
nicious but criminal. There are mental 
defects that are inconsistent with a state 
of virtue. The Sacred Scriptures never 
draw the line of distinction between intel- 
lectual and moral qualities, but prescribe 
both as requisite to form the character of 
the righteous man. Hence a sound mind, 
as well as a go#d heart is mentioned as an 
ingredient in the character of a saint. 
Hence, in the sacred books, religion and 
virtue go under the name of wisdom, vice 
and wickedness under the name of folly. 
Hence intellectual qualities become the 
subject of divine precept, and we are called 
upon to be wise and to be strong, as well 
as to be holy and to be pure. In opposition 



to the feeble-minded, it is said in the text, 
that they who know their Grod, or are tru- 
ly religious, are strong. Religion, when 
rightly understood, and virtue, when pro- 
perly practised, give nerves and vigor to 
the mind, infuse into the soul a secret 
strength, and, presenting a future world to 
our faith, make us superior to the dangers 
and temptations of the present. 

To show what this strength is, I shall 
set before you some of the most remark- 
able scenes in human life in which the 
feeble-minded give way, and in which they 
who know their Grod are strong. This 
strength then, inspired into the mind by 
the knowledge of Grod, makes us superior 
to the opinion and fashion of the world, 
superior to the difficulties and clangers of 
the world, superior to the pleasures and 
temptations of the world, and superior to 
desponding fears at our departure from the 
world. 

In the first place, It makes us superior 
to the opinion and fashion of the world. 

To sustain an amiable character so as 
to be beloved by those with whom we live, 
to maintain a sacred regard to the appro- 
bation of the wise and good, and to follow 
those things which are of good report, when 
at the same time they are pure and lovely 
and honorable, is the duty of every honest 
man. But unhappily the bulk of the world 
is not composed of the wise and the good ; 
religion and virtue are not always in the 
fashion ; to fix the rule of life, therefore, 
by the public approbation or dislike, is to 
make the standard of morality uncertain 
and variable. According to this doctrine, 
the Christian life would be the work of 
mere caprice, there would be a fashion in 
morals as well as in dress, and what is vir- 
tue, or vice in one age or country, would 
not be so in another. In such critical 
cases, when truth is to be defended, or in- 
tegrity to be held fast against the current 
of popular opinion, the feeble-minded are 
apt to make shipwreck of the faith. The 
feeble-minded man rests not upon himself, 
he has nothing within to support him, he 
thinks, and acts, and lives by the opinion 
of others. " What will the world say ? " is 
the question that he puts -to himself on all 
occasions. Thou fool ! look inwards, thine 
own heart will tell thee more than all the 
world. This pusillanimous deference to 



106 



SERMON XXIV. 



the opinion of others, this criminal compli- 
ance to the public voice, will make you lose 
your all, your soul. 

Hence, in certain companies, men are 
ashamed of their religion. They lend a 
pleased ear to arguments that shake the 
foundations of their faith : they join in the 
laugh that is raised at the expense of all 
that they hold sacred and venerable, and 
themselves assume the spirit, and speak 
the words of profaneness, while the heart 
often secretly agonizes for the liber- 
ties of the tongue. In opposition to such 
characters, the man who is truly religious, 
performs his duty through bad report as 
well as through good. The applause of 
such fools as make a mock at sin, he de- 
spises. His standard of moral conduct, is 
his own conscience well informed by the 
word of God. He knows that the fashion 
of the world passeth away, and vice or folly 
is not recommended to him by*being prac- 
tised by others. He remembers the words 
of his Master, " Whosoever shall be 
ashamed of me, of him shall the Son of 
man be ashamed." He dares to be singu- 
lar and good : " Though all men forsake 
thee, yet will not I." 

In the second place, This strength in- 
spired by true religion, makes us superior 
to the difficulties and dangers we meet 
with in the world. 

The feeble-minded man is intimidated 
upon the slightest occasion : he starts at 
difficulties, and shrinks from dangers, when- 
ever they present themselves. Happy to 
catch at any subterfuge, he finds or makes 
a thousand obstacles to the discharge of his 
duty ; and when any thing great is to be 
done, there is " a lion in the way." What 
infinite mischief has this pusillanimity 
done in the world ! How often has the 
best and most generous cause been lost by 
the weakness of its defenders ! How often 
have the most innocent and worthy cha- 
racters suffered by the shameful cowardice 
of their friends ! How often have men 
purchased an inglorious ease, an infamous 
tranquillity, at the expense of character 
and conscience, and every thing great and 
good ! 



Very different is the character of him 
who is strong in the Lord. When he is 
assured he is in the right path, he sees no 
obstacles in the way. Nothing is difficult 
to a determined mind. Through the di- 
vine aid, resolution is omnipotent. To 
the unwearied efforts of persevering cour- 
age, art and nature have yielded : and 
there is a ladder by which the heavens 
may be scaled. Through Christ strength- 
ening him, the man of God can do all 
things No appearance of difficulty, no 
form of danger, no face of death, terrifies 
him from doing his duty. He gives up 
his possessions, his country, his parents, 
his friends, his wife and children, his own 
life also, rather than desert the post of 
honor assigned to him by Providence. 
" None of these things move me," saith 
an apostle, " neither account I my life 
dear unto myself, so that I may finish 
my course with joy. What mean you to 
weep, and to break my heart ? For I am 
willing not to be bound only, but to die 
at Jerusalem, for the name of the Lord 
Jesus." 

This was not the vain boast of men 
who were brave when the day of battle 
was distant, and who in the midst of tran- 
quillity, talked of despising danger. It 
was the speech of one who acted what he 
spoke. To the confirmation of it, we can 
adduce a cloud of witnesses, an host of 
martyrs, multitudes of all nations, and 
ages, and conditions, for whom the flames 
of the tormentor were kindled to no pur- 
pose ; against whom the sword of persecu- 
tion was drawn in vain; who held fast 
their integrity, though they knew death 
to be the consequence, and followed their 
Redeemer in a path that was marked with 
blood. Among these martyrs, doubtless 
there were many who naturally were as 
feeble, and flexible, and timorous, as any of 
you are : but when they were inspired with 
this hidden strength, and were supported 
by the everlasting arms,^the timorous 
waxed valiant, and the feeble became 
strong in the Lord. 

C cetera desunt. 



THE DANGER OF FOLLOWING A MULTITUDE TO DO EVIL. 



107 



SERMON XXV. 

THE DANGER OF FOLLOWING A MULTITUDE 
TO DO EVIL. 

Exod. xxiii. 2. — "Thou shalt not follow a multi- 
tude to do evil." 

Imitation is one of the great characteris- 
tics of the human species. As the passion 
for society is strong in the breasts of all 
rational creatures, the gratification of it is 
sought after as one of the highest enjoy- 
ments of life. The same passion that im- 
pels us to society, impels us to take part 
with our companions in their interests 
and inclinations. Insensibly and without 
thought we fall into their customs and 
their manners ; we adopt their sentiments, 
their passions, and even their foibles, and 
follow the same course as if we were ac- 
tuated by the same spirit. This principle 
appears in children even in the infant 
state. From their earliest years they love 
to mimic whatever strikes the organs of 
sense ; and soon as the young idea begins 
to shoot, and the embryo of the manly 
character to appear, they form themselves 
insensibly upon the model of their parents, 
and the persons with whom they converse. 
To this, and not to any fancied physical 
cause, is owing that strong and striking 
resemblance, which we frequently find be- 
tween the parents* and the offspring ; a 
resemblance as remarkable in the temper 
and character, as in the features of the 
face. 

This principle is not confined to indi- 
viduals, it extends to nations. There is 
a national character, a national spirit, and 
even a national mode of thinking, down 
the current of which we are insensibly 
carried. When any novelty, any improve- 
ment in art or in science, makes its ap- 
pearance in a nation, it flies from man to 
man, and from place to place by a kind 
of contagion, till it has overspread the 
whole country. So powerful is sympathy, 
and the love of imitation among men : and 
thus are our minds framed by the hand 
of our Maker, to accord with those of 
others ; like the strings of musical instru- 
ments in unison, when one is struck, the 
rest correspond to the impression, vibrate 



in the same key, and sound the same note. 
As this principle is implanted in us by 
the Author of our nature, it must no doubt 
be intended for great and important pur- 
poses. It serves to strengthen the bonds 
of society, to promote friendship and love, 
and is the aptest and most successful 
means, not only to teach wisdom and good- 
ness, but also to inspire them. 

But as all principles have their unfa- 
vorable and vicious extreme, to which they 
may be carried, so likewise hath this. 
Here, therefore, hath the Almighty inter- 
posed, and set bounds to it which it ought 
not to pass, and on the farthest verge of 
innocence hath engraven this inscription, 
" Hitherto shalt thou come, and no far- 
ther ; here shall the progress of thy imita- 
tion be stayed ; " or, as it is expressed in 
the words of our text, " Thou shalt not 
imitate men in their wickedness ; thou 
shalt not follow a multitude to do evil." 

In further treating on this subject, I 
shall, in the first place, endeavor to show 
you by what means we are to keep our- 
selves from following a multitude to do 
evil ; and, in the second place, adduce 
some arguments that urge the necessity 
of this duty. 

The first thing proposed, was to show 
you by what means we are to guard our- 
selves from the multitude that do evil. 

And, in the first place, In order to this, 
let us be early and firmly established in 
the principles of our holy faith. When 
we look about us into life, and behold 
how many persons enter into the world, 
without having their minds instructed, or 
their hearts established in the great prin- 
ciples of virtue and religion, we cannot be 
surprised that they go astray on occasion 
of the first temptation, and follow the 
multitude to do evil. Perhaps they have 
acquired some general knowledge of Chris- 
tianity, but their knowledge of it is mere- 
ly speculative, has played around the 
head, but has not reached the heart. Ac- 
cordingly, as mere speculation is utterly 
unfit to combat the strength of passion, 
and the violence of temptation, they soon 
fall off and sink into all the corruptions 
of the world around them. This course 
of life is well described in the beautiful 
parable of the sower and the seed. — " Be- 
hold a sower went forth to sow ; and as 



108 % 



SERMON XXV. 



he sowed, some seeds fell upon the stony- 
places, where they had not much earth, 
and forthwith they sprung up, because they 
had no deepness of earth ; and when the 
sun was up they were scorched, and because 
they had no root, they withered away." 
That is, they had received the knowledge 
of the Christian religion, but they had not 
attained to that true faith, which is not 
barely an assent of the understanding to 
speculative truth, but which is also a prin- 
ciple \)f action which purines the heart, 
works by love, and regulates the whole 
conversation. 

It is education chiefly that forms the 
human character; and it is a virtuous and 
religious education that forms the charac- 
ter of the Christian. The mind, at that 
early and innocent period, being untainted 
with actual guilt, and all alive to every 
generous impression, bends without labor 
to the force of instruction; is easily 
formed to all the beauties of holiness, and 
by frequent and repeated acts, acquires 
habits of devotion and virtue. The prin- 
ciples that are then imbibed, and the 
habits that are then acquired, although 
they may be sometimes shaken and weak- 
ened by the contagion of evil example, 
are seldom or never entirely obliterated. 
When the good seed is thus sown, we 
have the promise of Almighty God, that 
he will grant it the increase, and cause it 
to spring up into everlasting life. When 
the Christian doctrines are thus received, 
not merely as articles of belief, but also as 
principles of action, through the blessing 
of Grod, they will attain the ascendant 
over the unruly passions, and exert such 
an entire influence over the mind, as will 
enable it to resist temptation, and to come 
off triumphant. When the good founda- 
tion is thus laid, the winds may arise, and 
the rains may descend ; the tempest may 
blow and beat upon the house, but the 
foundation of the structure shall not fail, 
for it rests upon a rock. 

Next, In order to preserve our inno- 
cence and integrity uncorrupted from the 
world, let us beware with what company 
we associate. ' Evil communication cor- 
rupts good manners. It is not indeed al- 
ways in our power to avoid falling into 
the company of the wicked, but it is al- 
ways in our power not to make such per- 



sons our confidants and companions. It 
is the grand secret of life, both with re- 
spect to virtue and happpines, to select 
good and worthy persons to be our friends 
and companions ; such persons with whom 
we would not only wish to live, but also 
desire to die. Such persons whom we 
would not only choose to be the compan- 
ions of our careless hours, but also the 
partners of our enjoyments through all 
eternity. 

There is something in the friendship 
and familiarity of good men, extremely 
great and honorable to human nature; 
and there are some considerations in 
Christianity that carry these to their 
highest perfection. The great command- 
ment of our Lord to his followers, was to 
love one another. In the holy sacrament 
of the supper, we are united together in 
sufih intimate bonds of" union, as to be- 
come members of one body. We" have 
one faith, one hope, one baptism, one 
Lord, the Father of all, one Saviour who 
died for the sins of the world, one Spirit 
who dwells in the hearts of the faithful. 
We are fellow heirs of the same grace of 
life, fellow expectants of the same heaven- 
ly rewards. 

Under these considerations, the friend- 
ship of good men would be attended with 
the most beneficial effects. They would 
support each other in the temptations and 
afflictions of life, and by quickening each 
other's diligence, provoke one another to 
love and to good works. Such associa- 
tions of good and worthy persons, in times 
of public degeneracy and corruption, are 
spoken of in Scripture with the highest 
honor. " Then they that feared the Lord, 
spake often one to another, and the Lord 
hearkened and heard it ; and a book of 
remembrance was written before him for 
them that feared the Lord, and that 
thought upon his name. And they shall be 
mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that day 
when I make up my jewels,; and I will 
spare them as a man spareth his own son 
that serveth him." 

Further, In order to keep ourselves 
unspotted from the world, let us acquire 
firmness and fortitude of mind. There is 
no principle in human nature that is at- 
tended with a train of more dreadful con- 
sequences, than that facility of manners, 



ON LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 



109 



that simplicity of disposition, that weak- 
ness of soul, which is easily persuaded 
from its resolution, to comply with every 
proposal. This good nature, as it is falsely 
called, is the worst nature in the world, 
and is the occasion of more calamities, 
and of more crimes, than the actual incli- 
nation to wickedness. To oppose the ac- 
tual vicious inclination, Almighty God 
hath indued us with an understanding to 
discern its evil, and with a conscience to 
check its progress; but this pernicious 
feebleness of mind has the appearance of 
sociableness and of virtue, and, by that 
appearance, deceives us to our ruin. 

Persons of such a character make no 
original efforts of mind. They seem born 
to enlist under a leader, and are the sin- 
ners or the saints of accident. Fortitude 
of mind, and strength of resolution, are 
requisite for every purpose of human life. 
In particular, they are necessary to "keep 
us from the contagion of evil example. 
Let us be cautious in laying down reso- 
lutions : let us be cautious in concerting 
plans of action : but when t\ e have once 
resolved, let us be immutable. When we 
have chosen our path, let us hold on, 
though the temptations of life should be- 
set us on one hand, and the terrors of 
death on the other, not suffering the com- 
motions of the world, nor even the changes 
of nature, to shake or to disturb the more 
steadfast purpose of our souls. The most 
valuable of all possessions is a strenuous 
and steady mind, a self-deciding spirit, 
prepared to act, to suffer, or to die, as 
occasion requires. 

This is not an ideal character, which 
exists only in description. God hath ne- 
ver wanted his thousands who have not 
bowed the knee to the idols of the world. 
We can reckon up a venerable company 
of Patriarchs, and a sacred society of Pro- 
phets, a holy fellowship of Apostles, an in- 
numerable army of Martyrs and Confes- 
sors, who were found faithful in the midst 
of the faithless, who approved themselves 
the sons of God without rebuke, in the 
midst of an evil and profane generation, 
and having received the recompence of re- 
ward, are now sitting on thrones, and 
singing hosannas in .the heavens. 

The contemplation of their lives should 
animate us to run the race that is set be- 



fore us, with the same alacrity and zeal. 
Did we frequently and seriously call up 
to our remembrance, the lives and the vir- 
tues of those who are now inheriting the 
promises ; did we, by faith and contem- 
plation, represent to our minds those un- 
seen rewards of which they are now in 
possession, we should feel our hearts burn 
within us ; with zeal and emulation, wo 
would inhale a portion of the same divine 
spirit, and beholding as in a glass reflect- 
ed, their virtues and victories, we would 
be changed into the same image, from glo- 
ry to glory, as by the Spirit of the living 
God. 

C cetera desunt. 

N. B. The Sermon which was delivered in 
its finished state, by the Author, from this Text, 
was much admired by his hearers. The above 
is only a part of it, and a first copy. 



SERMON XXVI. 

ON LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 

Psalm cxxit. 6. — "Pray for the peace of Jeru- 
salem." 

Fellow-citizens, we now assemble, in 
obedience to the command of our Sove- 
reign, to pray for the peace of Jerusa- 
lem, and for the prosperity of those that 
love her. Loyalty to our king, and love 
to our country, are the passions which 
ought to animate us on this day.* That 
attachment which good citizens bear to 
their country, has ever been esteemed a 
virtue of the highest class. Not to men- 
tion the Greeks and Romans, the history 
of the Israelites, with which you are 
better acquainted, presents us with grand 
and striking instances of patriotism and 
public spirit. They never mention the' 
names of Zion and Jerusalem, without 
gladness and rapture. The words which 
I have now read to you, seem to have 
come from the heart, and breathe this 
spirit in the most lively manner. 

During their captivity, when they sat 
by the rivers of Babylon, the Jews 

* Upon a fast-day during the American war. 



110 



SERMON XXVI. 



thought upon Zion and wept. When they 
prayed to heaven, they turned their faces 
towards Jerusalem. At their return from 
captivity, they are described as halting on 
a hill, over which they had to march, tak- 
ing a fond look of J udea, from which they 
had been banished so long ; bursting into 
tears at the view, weeping as they went 
forward, at the recognizance of their an- 
cient country, and their native land. Our 
Saviour, who was a pattern of all good- 
ness, set us an example of this virtue. 
He loved his country, and uttered that 
celebrated exclamation of patriotism, " 0 
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, How often would 
I have gathered thee, as a hen gathereth 
her brood under her wings." 

As we now meet to pray for the peace 
or welfare of our J erusalem, (for in the lan- 
guage of Scripture, peace is put for all 
kinds of prosperity,) I shall endeavor to 
show you at this time, wherein the public 
welfare consists. 

It Consists in the national liberty, the 
national wealth and industry, the national 
defence, and the national character. 

The first ingredient in the public hap- 
piness is liberty ; a privilege invaluable, 
but frequently misunderstood, and still 
more frequently abused. Absolute liberty 
to do what we please, is absolute power. 
If one alone, or a few possess this, the rest 
are in slavery ; if all have it, the whole 
must be in confusion. In order to prevent 
mutual encroachments, and ascertain each 
person's claims, liberty must be secured 
by a constitution, and guarded by law. In 
the state of nature, men are not only free, 
but independent; among the wandering 
tribes of savages, none claim authority 
over others ; but as such a state cannot 
subsist long, whenever men enter into 
formed society, they give up some of their 
natural rights, in order to preserve the 
rest : they no longer wield the sword of 
justice themselves ; it is given to the ma- 
gistrate ; they intrust their property to 
the laws, and their protection to the king. 

Still, however, that is the happiest form 
of government, which best secures the na- 
tural rights of men. It is here that the 
British constitution triumphs. Possess- 
ing advantages which no other form of 
government ever possessed, it stands forth 
the envy of the neighboring nations, and a 



! pattern to succeeding times. Liberty is 
the birthright of every Briton. That 
grand charter of Nature to her children is 
established and confirmed by law. The 
constitution, like the providence of Hea- 
ven, extends its gracious regards to all : 
while it protects the poor in the posses- 
sion of their legal rights, it checks the 
insolence of the great, and sets bounds to 
the prerogative of m aj est y itself, saying to 
the king, " Thus far, and no farther, does 
thy power extend." All the members of 
the state are represented in the great 
council of the nation, and have a voice in 
the legislature ; the subjects are taxed by 
their own consent. There is no despotic 
or discretionary power in any part of the 
constitution. No action must be deemed 
a crime, but what the laws have plainly 
determined to be suc% ; no crime must be 
imputed to a man, but from a legal proof 
before his judges ; and these judges must 
be his fellow-subjects and his peers, who 
are obliged, by their own interest, to have 
a watchful eye over encroachments and 
violence. " We must ever admire, as a 
masterpiece of political wisdom, and as 
the key-stone of civil liberty, that statute 
which forces the secrets of every prison 
to be revealed, the cause of every com- 
mitment to be declared, and the person 
of the accused to be produced, that he 
may claim his enlargement, or his trial, 
within a limited time." By these means, 
Grreat Britain hath become what ancient 
patriots wished, a government of laws, 
and not of men. Highly favored nation 
and happy people, if they knew their feli- 
city, and did not upon occasions, by their 
own fault, turn the greatest of civil bless- 
ings into a curse ! 

In the second place, The national wel- 
fare consists in the national industry and 
wealth. It is a vulgar error to suppose 
that the greatness of a nation depends 
upon the number of its inhabitants. It 
is not the number of the people, but their 
being usefully employed, that adds to the 
true grandeur and felicity of a state. A na- 
tion is a great family, where every member 
has a sphere marked out and a part to 
perform, and which, if it abounds with 
the idle, must fall to ruin. " Men crowd 
where the situation is tempting, and mul- 
tiply according to the means of subsist- 



ON LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 



Ill 



ence." Present the proper objects : let 
the mechanic arts be cultivated ; let manu- 
factures abound, and .commerce flourish ; 
and citizens will come from the east and 
from the west, and from the south and 
from the north. Every thing in the world 
is purchased by labor and by industry. 

Our passions and desires are the causes 
of labor and industry. When a nation in- 
troduces manufactures and commerce, new 
desires are created, and new passions 
raised; men increase the enjoyments, and 
refine upon the pleasures of life. Not 
satisfied with what is necessary, which is 
a vague term, and has a reference to the 
fancy, and to the habit of living, they look 
out for what is comfortable, what is ele- 
gant, and what is delicate in life. In 
order to supply these recent wants, the 
possessor of land, the manufacturer, and 
the merchant, redouble their labor and at- 
tention. Thus new industry is excited, 
greater numbers of men are employed, the 
grandeur of the sovereign, and the hap- 
piness of the state, come to coincide. By 
this means, a stock of labor comes to be 
laid up for public use. 

Trade and industry are in reality no- 
thing but a stock of labor, which, in times 
of peace and tranquillity, are employed for 
the ease and satisfaction of individuals; 
but in the exigencies of state, may in part 
be turned to public advantage. The cul- 
tivation of these arts is favored, and for- 

• warded in our country, by that security 
which we enjoy. What every man has is 
his own. The voice of the oppressor is 
never heard in our streets. The hand of 
rapacious power is never stretched out to 

* rob the industrious of the fruit of his 
labor. / 

Thirdly, The public welfare consists in 
the national defence. The police of every 
well-modelled state has a reference to war 
and to national safety. The legislator of 
Sparta, one of the most famous of the an- 
cient republics, thought that nations were 
by nature in a state of hostility ; he took 
his measures accordingly, and observing 
that all the possessions of the vanquished 
pertain to the victor, he held it ridiculous 
to propose any benefit to his country, be- 
fore he had provided that it should not be 
conquered. A most necessary provision ; 
for unless a state be sufficient for its own 



defence, it must fall an easy prey to every 
invader. It was the intention of nature, 
that nations, as well as men, should guard 
themselves. Hence lessons of war are 
delivered in sacred Scripture, and prin- 
ciples of emulation and dissension are 
strongly implanted in the soul of man. 
Human nature has no part of its character, 
of which more striking examples are given 
in every part of the globe. What is it 
that stirs in the breasts of ordinary men 
when the enemies of their country are 
named % Whence are the prejudices that 
subsist between different provinces and 
villages of the same empire and territory? 
What is it that excites one half of the 
nations of Europe against the other ? The 
statesman may explain this conduct upon 
motives of national jealousy and caution ; 
but the people have dislikes and antipa- 
thies, which proceed from sentiment, not 
from reasoning. Among them the mate- 
rials of war and dissension are laid with- 
out the direction of government, and 
sparks are ready on every occasion to 
kindle into a flame. 

This being the disposition of the peo- 
ple, happy is that institution which pre- 
vails in a part of this island,* of putting 
arms into the hands of the people, of 
making every citizen a soldier in his turn, 
and by this means having a force at hand 
to rise in arms at any suddeti emergency. 
When such a system of military arrange- 
ments takes place, the prosperity of a state 
becomes independent of single men ; there 
is a wisdom which never dies, and a valor 
which is immortal. A state may hire 
troops, but valor is not to be bought ; the 
wealth of a nation will procure soldiers to 
fight its battles, but let it not be forgot- 
ten, that the possessions of the fearful are 
easily seized, that a timorous multitude 
falls into rout of itself. Ramparts may 
be erected, and the implements of war 
may be furnished, by a pacific people; 
but let it be remembered as an eternal 
truth, that there is no rampart which is 
impregnable to valor, that arms are only 
of consequence when they are in the 
hands of the brave, and that the only 
price of freedom is the blood of the free. 
When an ancient Spartan was asked, what 

* Originally published before the institution 
of the Scottish Militia. 



112 



SERMON XXVII. 



was the wall of his city ? he pointed to a 
band of brave men ; a defence more per- 
manent and more effectual than the rock 
and the cement with which other cities 
are fortified. 

Lastly, The public welfare consists in 
the national character. That righteous- 
ness exalteth a nation, and that vice is 
not only a reproach, but also a depression 
to any people, are truths so universally 
received, as to require little confirmation. 
All lawgivers in all ages have thought so, 
and made it their object to cultivate jus- 
tice and temperance, and fortitude and 
industry, conscious that public virtue is 
the source of public happiness. Phi- 
losophers and moralists have been of the 
same opinion, and have taught, with one 
consent, that the morality of the people 
was the stability of the government, and 
the true source of public prosperity. 
Practice and experience have confirmed 
the truth of these speculations. If we 
consult the history of the most renowned 
nations that have made a figure in the 
world, we shall find, that they rose to 
greatness by virtue, and sunk to nothing 
by vice ; that they obtained dominion by 
their temperance, their probity of man- 
ners, and a serious regard to religion ; and 
that when they grew dissolute, corrupted 
and profane, they became slaves to their 
neighbors, whom they were no longer 
worthy to govern. Public depravity paves 
the way for public ruin. When the health 
and vigor of the political constitution is 
broken, it is hastening to its decline. 
When internal symptoms of weakness 
appear, the least external violence will 
accomplish its dissolution. Besides the 
natural tendency of virtue to make nations 
great and happy, if we have just notions 
of divine Providence, if we believe that 
the perfections of Grod are at all concern- 
ed in human affairs, virtuous nations will 
be his peculiar care, and under his im- 
mediate protection ; he will counsel their 
counsellors, cover their armies in the day 
of battle, and crown them with victory 
and peace. 



SERMON XXVII. 

ON 'DEATH. 

Hebrews ix. 27. — " It is appointed to men once 
to die; but after this the judgment." 

Death is the conclusion of all events ; 
of all that ever have been, and of all that 
ever will be. The schemes of the base, 
the plots of the ambitious, the projects 
of the visionary, the studies of the learn- 
ed, all terminate here. However different 
the paths be that we take in life, they all 
lead to the grave. Whilst, therefore, we 
make death the subject of contemplation, 
and meditate upon the house which is ap- 
pointed for all living, let us take this 
thought along with us, that we shall bear 
a part in those scenes which we now de- 
scribe, and that we are meditating on a 
fate which will one day be our own. 

In the first place, Let us consider death 
as an event, the period of which is un- 
certain. 

In the days when Noah entered into 
the ark, they did eat, they drank, they 
married, they were given in marriage : 
and the flood came, and destroyed them 
all. On the day that Lot went out of 
Sodom, they did eat, they drank, they 
bought, they sold, they planted, they 
builded ; and it rained fire and brimstone 
from heaven, and destroyed them all. As 
it was in the days of Noah and in the 
days of Lot, even thus, my friends, shall 
it be to you when the day of death 
cometh. In the present state of things, 
the soul of man is blind to futurity. Sur- 
rounded with material objects, and oc- • 
cupied in present affairs, we make these 
the sole objects of attention ; we find in 
them the only sources cf attachment, and 
overlook those spiritual and distant events 
on which our future life and happiness 
depend. Hence, we are always surprised 
with our latter end, and the day of the 
Lord cometh like a thief in the night. 
No instruction can make us so wise as to 
consider our latter end ; no warning can 
incite us to set our houses in order, that 
we may die; and no example give the 
alarm so strong, as to set us on serious 
preparation for meeting with Grod. Void 
of thought, and careless of futurity, we 



ON DEATH. 



113 



live on from day to day, like the victim 
that plays and dances before that altar 
where its blood is to be shed. Even after 
the longest life, and under the most linger- 
ing sickness, death comes unexpected ; the 
arrow is still unseen that strikes through 
the heart. 

This is not peculiar to a few men ; it 
describes a general character, and is ex- 
emplified in all the classes of life. This 
infatuation does not arise from ignorance. 
You all know that death is certain ; you 
all know that it is generally unexpected. 
You assent to every thing that we can say 
upon this head, that there is no action of 
life, but what may lead to its end, and 
/ no moment of time but what may be your 
last. You need not be informed, that 
death spares no age ; your own observation 
presents you with many instances of per- 
sons cut off in all periods of life. In 
that churchyard you see graves of every 
length ; on those monuments of mortality, 
you read the histories of the promising 
boy, of the blooming youth, of the man 
in middle life, and of the hoary head, 
mingled together in sad assemblage 
amongst the abodes of the dead. You 
can reckon up instances of persons cut 
off in a sudden and unexpected manner ; 
of a Herod who was struck amidst the 
applauses of the people ; of a Jezebel who 
was thrown headlong from that window 
where she had prepared to display her- 
self to the people ; of a Belshazzar who 
was slain at a banquet, when he was 
carousing with his princes, his concubines, 
and his wives; and of a Holophernes, 
who met his fate surrounded with his 
army, and crowned with victory and fame. 

With all these in your memory, you 
act as if you were immortal. Even the 
death of those who fall around us, and 
before our eyes, affects us not with serious 
concern. One person opposed us in a 
favorite object, and we rejoice at his de- 
cease ; another stood in our way to pre- 
ferment and power; the death of a third 
opens to us a prospect of rising to wealth 
and fortune : we profit not by all these les- 
sons of mortality ; the voice from the 
tomb sends us back to the world, and 
from the very ashes of the dead there 
comes a fire that rekindles our earthly 
desires. We look upon all our neighbors 
8 



as mortal ; we form schemes to ourselves 
upon their decease, but forget all the while 
that we ourselves are to die. 0 foolish 
and infatuated race, will you always con- 
tinue deaf to the voice of wisdom ? Will 
neither the instructions of the living, nor 
the warnings of the dead, induce you to 
serious thoughts ? Will you continue to 
lengthen your prospects, when perhaps 
you stand upon the very verge of life ; 
and can you enjoy the feast, when the 
sword hangs over your head, by a single 
hair ? Who knoweth what a day may 
bring forth ? The morning has smiled 
upon multitudes, who before the evening 
have slept the sleep of death. Who know- 
eth how soon you may be hurried to the 
judgment-seat of God ? The ears which 
hear these sayings may soon be shut for 
ever ; and the heart which now throbs at 
the thought, may, in a little time, be min- 
gled with the clods of the valley. Some 
who last Lord's day worshipped within 
these walls, are now gone to the eternal 
world, and God only knows how soon some 
of us may follow. 

Seeing then that life is so uncertain, 
that the thread .thereof breaks at every 
blast, let me exhort you to set apart some 
time for serious meditation upon your 
mortality. Let it be on some solemn oc- 
casion, in the silent hour of night, when 
deep sleep falleth on man, when midnight 
closeth awful all the world, and naught in 
nature is awake but God and thee : there., 
in deep and solemn meditation, think over 
the terrors of that house which is appoint- 
ed for all living, and with the ancient 
patriarch, say to corruption, Thou art my 
father, and to the worm, Thou art my 
mother and my sister. Ask seriously at 
your own heart, " Should these eyes never 
open upon the light of another day ; should 
the awful mandate issue forth from the 
Almighty Arbiter of life an(i death, — 
This night, this night thy soul shall be 
required of thee ; " could you, without 
fear and trembling, face the tribunal of 
God, the Judge of all ? If frighted nature 
starts back and trembles at the thought, 
of instant dissolution, make your former 
life pass before you in review, compare it 
with the law of God : if your former mis- 
pent time comes up before you in sad re- 
membrance ; if your past transgressions- 



114 



SERMON XXVII. 



stare you in the face, and point* to the 
lake that burnetii with fire and brimstone, 
instantly and without delay, whilst the 
gate of heaven is yet open, whilst the 
throne of mercy is yet accessible, pros- 
trate yourselves before God in deep humil- 
ity and abasement, mourn over the sins 
of your past life in bitterness of soul, be- 
lieve in a crucified Redeemer, who died 
for the sins of the world, implore compas- 
sion and forgiveness from the Father of 
mercies, through the merits of Jesus 
Christ. Thus continue fervent in prayer 
and supplication, and in the exercise of 
faith and repentance ; give not sleep to 
your eyes nor slumber to your eyelids, 
till you have made your peace with God, 
till you feel within yourselves that peace 
which passeth all understanding, that joy 
which is unspeakable and glorious. Thus 
continue at solemn and stated occasions, 
to consider your latter end, till death shall 
grow familiar to your mind, till the grave 
shall gradually lose its terrors, and the 
Sun of Righteousness arise upon you in 
full glory. 

In the second place, Let me remind you, 
that a good life is the best preparation 
for death. You may lay it down as a 
maxim confirmed by universal experience, 
that every man dies as he lives ; and it is 
by the general tenor of the life, not a par- 
ticular frame of mind at the hour of death, 
that we are to be judged at the tribunal 
of God. It is a dangerous mistake which 
prevails amongst men, that it is sufficient 
for their eternal happiness, if they feel 
some serious emotions at their latter end. 
If your life has been wicked, what will it 
avail you, that on your death-bed you have 
been actuated with sorrow for your of- 
fences ? Judas Iscariot felt such a sorrow 
when he went to his own place. Late 
conversions are not to be trusted to, and 
death-bed repentances are generally no- 
thing more than the first gnawing of the 
worm that shall never die. Suppose 
death to halt a little, the sick person re- 
covers, washes his couch with floods of 
penitential tears, a thousand vows of 
amendment are made ; but if repentance 
lasts no longer than sickness, the disease 
and the devotion go off together ; the man 
returns to walk in his former ways. 

Be blameless, therefore, and harmless 



in the general tenor of your life. Keep a 
conscience void of offence towards God 
and towards man. Let not the sun go 
down upon one unrepented sin. Make it 
your business every night to review the 
actions of the foregoing day. If, through 
the frailty of nature, or the force of temp- 
tation, you have sinned against God, pros- 
trate yourselves before the throne of grace, 
and ask pardon through Christ. As you 
would not wish to yourselves distress and 
anguish and tribulation at the day of 
death ; as you would not wish to bring 
down your gray hairs with sorrow to the 
grave; beware of persisting in a course 
of unrepented sin. 

Notwithstanding, however, of the utility 
of such meditations, there is no subject 
on which we are so reluctant to fix our 
attention as our mortality. We shift from 
one speculation, and from one pursuit to 
another ; we give our thoughts to wander 
through immensity, but cautiously avoid 
this theme which touches us so near ; but 
this is the point where wisdom begins. 
We can never live as we ought, till we 
have learned how to die. I mean not by 
this, that we should make death the con- 
stant subject of our meditation, and have 
funerals always passing before our eyes. 
This would withdraw us from life alto- 
gether ; would indispose us even for its 
business and its enjoyments ; but although 
we cannot always employ ourselves in such 
meditations, let us at times give this sub- 
ject its full weight ; that certainly merits 
some place in our thought which is the 
great close of our being here. It is awful, 
indeed, I acknowledge, my friends, to make 
approaches to the mansions of the dead ; 
it is melancholy to think upon the fall of 
this goodly structure, which was built by 
the hand of the Most High ; but fall it 
assuredly must. The present moment 
hastens us on to our- last hour. Let us 
therefore prepare for an event which we 
cannot avoid. We may learn some les- 
sons from the tomb, which will avail us 
through all eternity. 

In the third place, I shall consider 
death as becoming present to us, and en- 
deavor to give you that view of it, which 
you will one day have. 

None, indeed, ever returned from the 
invisible world to describe the bed of 



ON DEATH. 



115 



death, and tell us the agonies of the last 
hour. But up to that hour we can trace 
the man, and survey him stretched upon 
the bed from which he is to rise no more. 
A death-bed discovers the real character 
of men ; dissimulation is then at an end. 
At the close of the scene, the mask drops 
off, and the man appears in his true colors. 
Then, then, often for the first time, a man 
turns a serious eye upon himself ; cut off 
from all connection with the living world ; 
bidding adieu for ever to all below the 
sun ; entering within the dominions of the 
dead, and about to appear before the 
judgment- seat of God ; surouncled by the 
sad circle of his friends and attendants, 
he reads in their trembling looks, that all 
is over with him, that his hour is come ; 
then the illusion vanishes that was spread 
upon all earthly things ; then the past 
rises up, often rises in bitter remembrance ; 
then the future rushes upoia his view' with 
all its dark and unknown terrors ; then the 
sense of Deity revives, which, however 
disguised, lies at the bottom of every 
heart; then conscience, rising up in majesty 
supreme, holds out such a picture of the 
eternal world, as convinces the most un- 
believing mind ; convinces him that a fu- 
ture state is not the dictate of a wild im- 
agination, is not the figment of priests 
and lawgivers, to terrify the ignorant, and 
keep the people in awe ; he sees and feels 
that it is an awful reality. When the 
time of his departure is announced by the 
cold sweat and the shivering limbs, and 
the voice faltering in the throat, he casts 
a last look, perhaps a sad one, on all that 
he leaves behind. Then the whole crea- 
tion fades from his view, the world seems 
to be dissolved, and, to ther closing eye, 
nothing appears but God alone ; that God, 
before whose tribunal he is summoned to 
appear. 

If this fate shall one day be ours, what 
manner of persons ought we now to be ? 
At that hour, the very best shall wish 
that they had been better, and after all 
the preparation that we have made, we 
shall wish that we had made more. Let 
this thought have its influence in deter- 
mining us to the choice of objects which 
we pursue, and the course of life which 
we embrace. The greatest part of man- 
kind, having no fixed or certain plan of 



life, have no choice in the objects which 
present themselves, but give the loose 
rein to a wandering inclination, and follow 
on without thinking, where accident points 
the way. Here, therefore, let us often 
pause and seriously ask ourselves, Is the 
course of life which I am now engaged in, 
of such a nature that it will bear a review 
upon the bed of death ? Are the motives 
of my present conduct, and the reasons 
which now determine me to action, so strong 
and well founded, that I could plead them 
in my defence at the bar of eternal jus- 
tice? If that is not the case, consider 
and be wise before it is too late. Why 
should you vex yourselves in vain ? Why 
should you pass your time in such a man- 
ner, as to make its end bitter ? Why 
will you treasure up to yourselves anguish 
and remorse and tribulation, and make no 
other use of the present time, but to em- 
bitter your last hour ? Be consistent 
with yourselves. You cannot live the life 
of the wicked, and die the death of the 
righteous. Let, therefore, your course of 
action be of that kind, that draws no re- 
pentance after it ; then shall your path in 
life be like the morning light, which shin- 
eth more and more unto the perfect day. 

Having thus set out, and made progress 
in the ways of righteousness, you will 
look forward with joy. This will cause 
the evening of your days to smile, and 
the stream of life to run clear to the last. 
Let this consideration moderate our at- 
tachment to earthly things. What profit 
hath a man in that sore travel to which 
he is appointed under the sun? Why 
should we vex ourselves in vain, deny our- 
selves to the enjoyments of life, withdraw 
sleep from our eyes, and peace from our 
minds ? Why should we add to the evils 
of life, and carry about with us a burden 
to the grave ? Even with a view to pre- 
sent tranquillity and enjoyment, this is 
folly of the first magnitude ; but, when 
we take in the consideration of a future 
life, it is worse than folly, it is sin. If 
we are entirely immersed in the concerns 
of this world ; if earthly things occupy 
and engross our whole attention, what 
shall we do when God taketh away the 
soul ? How will the closing eye contem- 
plate the pomp and glitter of life, the 
evil of avarice, the bustling of ambition, 



116 



SERMON XXVII. 



and all this circle of vanity to which we 
are now enchanted ? Use this world, 
therefore, as not abusing it ; let not the 
business or the pleasures of it take hold 
of your heart, make them not essential to 
your happiness, sit loose to them, remem- 
ber that the fashion of this world passeth 
away, and that death soon puts a period 
to the scene, which no wise man would 
wish to last for ever. 

In the fourth place, By making the 
thought of death present to us, regulate 
our conduct with respect to the friendships 
which we form, and concerning the ani- 
mosities which we entertain. 

Affection and friendship are the best 
and most valuable part of human nature. 
The heart of man wishes to be kind, and 
looks around for objects. This fund of 
generous love is often misapplied ; this 
favorable bias of humanity is often per- 
verted ; sometimes by that general and 
indiscriminate good nature which looks 
upon all men as alike ; sometimes by friv- 
olous attachments, founded upon a con- 
formity of trifling dispositions ; and some- 
times by a more criminal alliance, by a 
partnership in iniquity. In the course 
of business, indeed, we must converse with 
persons of all kinds. No man has the 
choice of the companies into which he 
may fall ; but every man has the choice 
of the friends with whom he cultivates 
more intimate connections. In forming 
these connections, therefore, let us look 
forward to the time when they shall be 
dissolved, and let us live only with such 
persons with whom we would desire to 
die. 

This thought should also check us in 
the animosities which we are apt to enter- 
tain. In the present state of things, 
where men think so differently, where op- 
posite passions are felt, and interfering 
interests occur, dissensions will naturally 
arise. And, where men have not the aid 
of philosophy to restrain, or the influence 
of divine grace to subdue their passions, 
these will often be attended with dismal 
effects. From this root proceeds the 
wormwood which embitters the cup of 
human life. But when the blood begins to 
cool, when the passions grow calmer, and 
reason reassumes its office, greater mode- 
ration will prevail ; things will appear in 



a different light ; honest and candid men 
will then look back with pain upon those 
excesses to which they have been carried 
by the impetuosity of passion. However 
some men choose to live, all men would 
wish to die at peace with their neighbors ; 
there is no enmity in the grave ; there is 
no discord in the house which is appointed 
for all living : there friends and foes rest 
together in peace, and the ashes of those 
who were mortal enemies, mingle together 
in friendly alliance. Let us, therefore, 
now cultivate those benevolent' disposi- 
tions to all men, and live in those habits 
with our neighbors, which we would wish 
to prevail in us at the hour of death. 

These exhortations, my young friends, I 
address particularly to you. You are 
apt to reckon yourselves privileged from 
death ; you put the evil day far off ; you 
promise to yourselves a length of nappy 
days, and think that melancholy reflec- 
tions upon mortality are ill suited to the 
bloom of your years, and the gayety of 
your spirits. " Let the old," you say, 
" think upon death ; let those who are 
drawing nigh to the grave, prepare for 
that better world to which they are ad- 
vancing; but sure it is the duty of the 
young and the gay to make the most of 
life." True; and in order to make the 
most of life, you must conquer the fear of 
death. The king of terrors, when not 
subdued, is the most formidable of all 
foes. In every path of life he will meet 
you, and haunt you like a ghost : even 
at the banquet his form will appear ; he 
will blast you in the midst of your joy, 
and turn the house of mirth into a house 
of mourning. Trust not, 0 man, to thy 
youth, nor presume upon impunity from 
the destroyer. How often, when the tree 
puts forth buds, and spreads its blossoms 
to the sun, does the wind of the desert 
come and blast the hopes of the year ! 
The widow of Nain wept over her son, 
who died, fair in the prime of life ; and 
many a parent hath followed his child to 
the grave, crying with bitter lamentation, 
" Would to God that I had died for thee, 
my son ! my son ! " Your own experience 
may enforce this truth. None who now 
hear me, but have seen their equals in age 
cut off, and younger than they laid in the 
grave. As, therefore, you are always in 



THE CHRISTIAN" LIFE A LIFE OF EASE AND PLEASURE. 117 



danger, be always on your guard. Instead 
of filling you with gloom and melancholy, 
this is the true way to prevent them. 
Having subdued the last enemy, you have 
none other to fear. Adopted into the 
family of God, interested in the merits of 
Christ, entitled to the glories of immor- 
tality, you go forward through life and 
death, conquering and to conquer. Then 
all things are yours ; death is a passage 
to a better life, and the gate to immor- 
tality. 

Much more is it incumbent on you, my 
aged friends, to consider your latter end. 
Why stand you here all the day idle ? 
Consider how vain, and foolish, and sinful, 
it is to be forming schemes of long life, 
when you are within the threshold of the 
house of death ? Consider how terrible 
will be the hour, if you have never thought 
of death till you come to die ; like Jonah, 
to be awakened from a sound sleep", and 
to be cast into the ocean. Look into life, 
behold a young generation rising around 
you, and you yourselves left alone in a 
new world. Look into the records of 
mortality, into the repositories of the dead, 
and hear your equals in age calling to' you 
from the tomb, and warning you to pre- 
pare for that fate which is theirs to-clay, 
and may be yours to-morrow. Embrace, 
therefore, the opportunities of grace which 
you now enjoy. Whilst the Prince of 
Peace extends the golden sceptre, kiss the 
Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from 
his presence. Be wise, and consider your 
end that is so near. 



SERMON XXVIII. 

THE CHRISTIAN LIFE A LIFE OF EASE AND 
PLEASURE. 

Matthew xr. 30. — " My yoke is easy and my 
burden is light." 

Jesus hath lately been addressing to you 
the gracious invitation which here he 
gives to penitent sinners. With his in- 
vitation you have testified your compli- 
ance. Last Lord's day you confessed 
at these tables, that you were weary and 
heavy laden with the yoke of the world; 



that you came to -Jesus in hopes of finding 
rest to your souls ; and that you were re- 
solved to learn of him, and to take his 
yoke upon you. The good confession, my 
friends, which you then witnessed, the 
happy choice which you then made, you 
will never have cause to repent. The 
world, indeed, will represent religion to 
you as a heavy burden and a galling yoke; 
but I assure you, upon the authority of 
Jesus Christ, and upon the testimony of 
all his disciples, that his yoke is easy, and 
his burden is light; that his command- 
ments are not grievous, and the ways he 
points out to his followers, are ways of 
pleasantness and paths of peace. 

The ease and pleasure of the Christian 
life, is to be the subject of the present 
discourse. But, before I enter upon it, I 
have one observation to make, which is, 
That in order to taste the joys of religion, 
we must have been accustomed to its gov- 
ernment, and made advances in the divine 
life. We can never have a taste for any 
pursuit till we be acquainted with it : we 
can never enter into the spirit of any sci- 
ence, till that science be familiar to us. 
To those who have long engaged in a 
course of wickedness, the duties of religion 
will at first be grievous and irksome, be- 
cause they oppose strong prejudices and 
confirmed habits of vice. But when these 
bad habits are removed, and good ones are 
contracted, when a man acquires the tem- 
per, and enters into the spirit of religion, 
he then feels the joy which a stranger in- 
termeddles not with. Grive a musical in- 
strument to an unskilful person, we hear 
nothing but harshness and discord from 
every string : the artist alone makes mu- 
sic and harmony accompany all the mo- 
tions of his hand. Religion is an art, and 
like an art is to be learned before it be 
understood. 

In the first place, The Christian life is 
a life of ease and pleasure, on account of 
the principle from which the Christian 
acts. 

The Christian is not a slave who obeys 
from compulsion, nor a servant who works 
for hire ; he is a son who acts from ingen- 
uous affection and filial love. When the 
Christian contemplates the goodness, and 
tender mercies, and loving-kindness of 
Grod, particularly his inexpressible love in 



118 



SERMON XXVIII. 



the Redemption of the world by Christ 
Jesus, he is constrained to new obedience 
by the most powerful of all ties, by the 
cords of love, and the bands of a man ; 
thus reasoning, and thus feeling, that if 
one died for all, then they which are alive 
ought not to live to themselves, but to 
him who died for them. Gratitude to a 
benefactor, affection" to a father, love to a 
friend, all concur to form the principle of 
evangelical obedience, and to strengthen 
the cord that is not easily broken. Love, 
then, is the principle of the Christian 
life : love, the most generous passion that 
glows in the breast of man, the most ac- 
tive principle that works in the human 
frame, the key that unlocks every finer 
feeling of the heart, the spring that puts 
in motion every power of the soul. Pleas- 
ant are the labors of love. Short is the 
path and cheerful the journey when the 
heart goes along. A determined mind, 
enamored of the object it pursues, re- 
moves mountains, and makes the crooked 
path straight : the fire cannot extinguish, 
nor the waters quench its force ; it reigns 
supreme in the heart, and diffuses a 
gayety over every path of life. By its 
influence labor is rendered easy, and duty 
becomes a delight. 

In the second place, The ease and plea- 
sure of the Christian life will appear if we 
consider the assistance we receive from 
above. 

" Work out your salvation ; for it is 
God that worketh within you every good 
work and word." There are difficulties 
in the Christian life ; I have no intention 
to deceive you, my friends ; you will often 
find it difficult to act the proper part ; 
to maintain a conscience void of offence 
towards God and towards man ; to keep 
your passions within the bounds of reason; 
to subdue your irregular inclinations to 
the obedience of faith, and to hold fast 
your integrity uncorrupted amid the temp- 
tations of the world. These and many 
other difficulties will beset you in running 
the Christian race. But let me remind 
you, that one half of the pleasures of hu- 
man life arise from overcoming difficul- 
ties ; and to overcome these difficulties 
which surround us, God bestows the in- 
fluence of his Holy Spirit. The Lord 
is ever nigh to them who call upon him in 



the sincerity of their heart. To those 
who wait at the salutary stream, an angel 
descends to stir the waters. God never 
said to the seed of Jacob, Seek ye my 
face in vain. He never neglected the 
prayer that came from the heart. He 
never forsook the man that put his trust 
in him. 

If you were left to climb the arduous 
ascent, by your own strength alone, then 
the Christian life would neither be easy 
nor pleasant ; then you might sit down in 
despair of ever attaining the top. But 
whatever duties God calls you to, he gives 
you abilities to perform them. Accord- 
ing as your days are, he hath promised 
that your strength shall be. His grace is 
sufficient for us ; his strength is made per- 
fect in our weakness. No, my friends, 
God hath never withdrawn himself from 
the world. The Father of spirits is ever 
present with his rational offspring ; he 
knows their frame, he helps their infir- 
mities, assists their graces, strengthens 
their powers, and makes perfect what con- 
cerns them. He assists the feeble, he 
revives the languishing, he supports the 
strong. He aids the efforts of the cap- 
tive, who endeavors to break loose from 
the fetters that hold him ; he favors the 
ascent of the devout mind, that with the 
confidence of faith rises to himself, and he 
forwards the pilgrim, journeying to his 
native country. The good husbandman 
superintends the vine which his own right 
hand planted. He waters his vineyard with 
dews from heaven, and breathes ethereal 
influence on those trees of righteousness 
that shall adorn the paradise of God. 

Hast thou not felt him, 0 Christian ! 
restraining thy evil inclinations, suggest- 
ing holy thoughts, kindling heavenly affec- 
tions, and drawing thee to thy duty with 
a hand unseen ? Hast thou not felt him 
as a Spirit within thy spirit, imparting 
secret strength, animating thy frame as 
with new life, actuating thy faculties, puri- 
fying thy passions, begetting in thee an 
abhorrence of sin and a love of righteous- 
ness, and making all thy graces shine out 
with fresh beauty? How easy and de- 
lightful then will the Christian life be, 
when you have divine aids to strengthen, 
support, and assist? It is God himself 
who is on your side, it is God himself who 



THE CHRISTIAN LIFE A LIFE OF EASE AND PLEASURE. 



119 



works with you ; his wisdom is your guide, 
his arm is your support; his Spirit is 
your strength ; you lose your own insuffi- 
ciency in the fulness of infinite perfection. 

In the third place, It will appear, that 
the Christian life is easy and pleasant, if 
we consider the encouragements the good 
man receives. 

The good man waits not for all his hap- 
piness till he come to heaven : he hath 
treasures in hand, as well as possessions in 
hope : he hath a portion in the life that 
now is, as well as in that which is to come. 
There is a sense of moral good and evil 
implanted in the mind ; a principle of 
conscience which condemns us when we 
do ill, and applauds us when we do well. 
This principle is the chief foundation of 
our happiness, and gives rise to the greatest 
pleasures and the greatest pains in human 
life. By means of this moral sense, there 
is no peace to the wicked. Inward 
struggles, strong reluctance and aversion 
of mind, precede the commission of sin. 
Sin, when committed, is followed by guilty 
blushes, alarming fears, terrible reviews, 
startling prospests, and remorse, with all 
its hideous train. Against the sinner, his 
own heart rises up in judgment to con- 
demn him ; the terrors of the Lord set 
themselves in array agsinst him ; a fire 
not blown consumes him. " There is no 
peace to the wicked." The foundations 
of peace are subverted in his mind ; he is 
at enmity with himself ; he is at enmity 
with his fellow-creatures ; he is at enmity 
with God. It is not so with those that 
take upon them the yoke of Christ. When 
pure religion forms the temper, and governs 
the life, all is peaceful and serene ; the man 
is then in his proper element ; the soul is 
in a state of health and vigor; there is a 
beautiful correspondence between the 
heart and the life ; all is serene without, 
all is tranquil within. Delivered from 
the anxieties that perplex, and from the 
terrors that overwhelm the guilty man, 
the Christian resigns himself to peace and 
•joy, conscious that he possesses a temper 
of mind which is acceptable to God, and 
leads a life which is useful to men. In 
the heart of such a man there is a blessed 
calmness and tranquillity, like that of the 
highest heavens. 

But there is more than a calmness and 



tranquillity. The air may be calm and 
tranquil, when the day is dark ; the sea 
may be smooth, when there is mist upon 
the waves ; the sky may be tranquil when 
it is overcast with clouds : but the pious 
and virtuous mind resembles a sky that is 
not only calm, but bright; resembles a 
sea that is not only smooth, but serene ; 
resembles an unclouded sky, beautiful with 
the rising sun. There are joys in the 
Christian life, unknown to transgressors : 
there is a spring shut up, and a fountain 
sealed, that refreshes the city of God ; 
there are secret consolations reserved for 
the just; there are silent pleasures that 
flow into the pious mind ; there is a still 
small voice that comes to the pure in 
heart, and bids them be of good cheer ; 
there is an inward peace of God that 
passeth all understanding ; there is a joy 
in the Holy Ghost, resulting from the 
well-grounded hope of a happy immorta- 
lity, that is unspeakable and glorious. 

When the heart is thus pure, it be- 
comes the temple of the Deity ; and, as a 
temple is consecrated with the' presence 
of God ; " If a man love me, and keep my 
words, my Father will love him, and we 
will come and make our abode with him." 
Who can describe the joy of those happy 
moments, when a present Deity is felt, 
when God manifests himself to his people, 
so as he does not to the world, when our fel- 
lowship is with the Father and with his 
Son Jesus Christ? Then a foretaste of 
immortality is given, the joys of the blessed 
are let down, and heaven descends to men. 

In the fourth and last place, The ease 
and pleasure of the Christian life will ap- 
pear, if we consider the joyful prospect 
that is set before us. 

The Christian has joys in this life ; but 
he is not confined to these. His hopes do 
not terminate with life ; they extend be- 
yond the grave. Death puts a final period 
to the happiness of the wicked man ; but 
it is then that the happiness of the right- 
eous man begins. We are assured in 
Sacred Scripture, that there is a kingdom 
prepared for the righteous from the founda- 
tion of the world, when they shall enter 
into rest from all their labors, and suffer- 
ings, and sorrows of this mortal life ; when 
they shall enter into a state where no 
ignorance shall cloud the understanding, 



120 SERMON XXIX. 



and no vice pervert the will ; where noth- 
ing but love shall possess the soul, and 
nothing but gratitude employ the tongue ; 
where they shall be admitted to an innu- 
merable company of angels, and to the 
general assembly and church of the First- 
born ; where they shall see Jesus at the 
right hand of the Father, and shall sit 
down with him upon his throne ; where 
they shall be admitted into the presence 
of God, shall behold him face to face, and 
be changed into the same image, from 
glory to glory ; that glory which eye hath 
not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered 
into the heart of man to conceive. 

To conclude, It may be observed, that 
it hath been the fate of Christianity in all 
ages, to suffer more from its friends than 
from its enemies. Attacks from the 
enemies of our faith have generally proved 
subservient to its propagation and suc- 
cess ; but the misrepresentations and in- 
juries of its friends have often wounded 
it in a vital part. One of the greatest of 
these misrepresentations, and one of the 
most flagrant injuries that ever was done 
to religion, was to represent it as a bur- 
densome service ; as a grievous and a 
galling yoke, to which no man would sub- 
mit, but from the terror of eternal punish- 
ment. What adds to the injury, this has 
sometimes been done by persons of real 
seriousness, who, unhappily possessed of 
a gloomy imagination, and who, proba- 
bly, in some period of their days, having 
been guilty of crimes, have been so deeply 
affected with remorse and contrition, that 
they have continued all their lifetime sub- 
ject to bondage. But blessed be God, 
my friends, that such unfavorable and for- 
bidding delineations of religion have no 
foundation in truth. In these volumes, 
Christians are called upon to rejoice ever- 
more. Religion promises happiness to us 
in the life which now is, as well as in the 
life which is to come. The Wisdom that is 
from above, is represented as having length 
of days in her right hand, and in her left 
hand riches and honor. The prophets and 
apostles ransack heaven and earth for 
images to express the joys of the just. 
They bring together the most beautiful 
and most delightful objects in the whole 
compass of nature, and introduce the in- 
animate parts of the creation as joining 



in the happiness of the good ; the hills and 
the mountains breaking forth into singing, 
and all the trees of the wood shouting for 
joy. All concurs to prove the truth in 
the text, " My yoke is easy, and my bur- 
den is light." 



SERMON XXIX. 

THE EXPEDIENCY OF JESUS CHRIST APPEAR- 
ING IN A SUFFERING STATE. 

Hebrews ii. 10. — "For it became him, for 
whom are all things, and by whom are all 
things, in bringing many sons unto glory, to 
make the Captain of their salvation perfect 
through sufferings." 

When Christianity was first published to 
the world, the earliest objection that was 
raised against it, arose from the low and 
suffering state in which its Author ap- 
peared. It was a stumbling-block to the 
Jews, and seemed foolishness to the 
Greeks, that a prophet sent from heaven 
to enlighten and reform the world, should 
lead a life of indigence and obscurity, and 
make his exit with ignominy and with pain. 

If we consider the character and pre- 
vailing opinions of the Jews and the 
Greeks at the time when our Saviour ap- 
peared, we shall see the reason of the un- 
favorable reception which they gave to 
his doctrines. The Jews had been the 
favorite people of God. By signs and 
miracles, and mighty works, he had de- 
livered them from a state of slavery in 
Egypt, had conducted them through the 
wilderness, and at last given them a set- 
tlement in the promised land. The arm 
of the Lord was made bare in their be- 
half, the sea was divided to make way for 
them, and the waters stood as a wall on 
their right hand and on their left. Dur- 
ing their wanderings through the wilder- 
ness, a pillar of fire conducted them by 
night, and a pillar of cloud by day. 
Manna descended to them from heaven, 
and 'water sprung from the flinty rock. 
Accustomed to these great and marvel- 
lous exertions of the Divine power, in the 
days of the Messiah they expected still 
greater and more marvellous. If a God 
was to descend, they looked for him in 



THE EXPEDIENCY OF CHRIST APPEARING IN A SUFFERING ST ATE. 121 



the whirlwind, they looked for him in the 
thunder, they looked for him in the earth- 
quake, and when the still small voice 
came, it was neither heard nor regarded. 
Besides this, they had imbibed false no- 
tions concerning the Messiah, and the na- 
ture of his kingdom. They misinterpret- 
ed the ancient oracles, which foretold his 
coming ; they took the magnificent style 
of prophecy for literal description, and, 
in place of a spiritual Saviour, expected 
a temporal prince. Accordingly, at the 
time when our Saviour appeared, the 
whole nation was intoxicated with the 
idea of a triumphant conqueror, who was 
to deliver them from the Roman yoke, to 
erect an universal monarchy on earth, and 
to make Zion the seat of empire, and cap- 
ital of the world. To persons under the 
influence of these prejudices, a suffering 
Messiah was a stone of stumbling, and a 
rock of offence. 

A different set of prejudices prevailed 
in Greece. The Greeks were an ingen- 
ious and an active people. Situated in a 
fortunate climate, and blessed with the 
highest degree of liberty which mankind 
can enjoy, they bent their genius to the 
cultivation of the arts. Smitten with the 
love of wisdom, they gave up their pater- 
nal estates to attend the school of philo- 
sophy. They journeyed from region to 
region, and traversed the world, to bring 
home fresh accessions of knowledge, and 
new improvements in the arts. Under 
these favorable circumstances, Greece 
arose to fame, and beheld an age of glory, 
which is unrivalled in the records of his- 
tory. The ideas of virtue and of merit 
amongst any nation are founded upon the 
splendid examples with which their histo- 
ry abounds, and upon a perfection in 
those arts which they cultivate, and in 
which they excel. The Greeks excelled 
in the arts to which the imagination gives 
birth, as well as in the sciences, which 
reason brings to maturity, and their his- 
tory abounded with the most splendid in- 
stances of public spirit, of heroic friend- 
ship, and of intrepid valor. Dazzled with 
the lustre of these arts, and with the 
glory of these virtues, they fixed the 
standard of excellence by them, and had 
no admiration to bestow upon the humble 
Prophet of Nazareth, and the mortifying 



doctrines of the cross. As they had 
been a stumbling-block to the Jews, to 
the Greeks they seemed foolishness. 

It is then a subject worthy of our con- 
templation, to inquire into the reasons 
that might move Almighty God, thus, in 
direct opposition to the prejudices and 
expectations of both Jews and Greeks, to 
appoint the Captain of our salvation to 
be made perfect by a state of sufferings. 
It is hence proposed to show the expe- 
diency and propriety of appointing such a 
Captain of our salvation. This will ap- 
pear, from considering our blessed Sa- 
viour in these four capital views of his 
character : as the founder of a new reli- 
gion, as a pattern of all perfection, as a 
priest who was to make atonement, and a 
king who was to be crowned with glory. 

In the first place, If we consider our 
Saviour as the author of a new religion, 
his appearance in a suffering state frees 
his religion from an objection which ap- 
plies with full force to every other reli- 
gion in the world. 

Amongst all the nations whose history 
we have recorded, the laws gave birth to 
the religion. The public faith was model- 
led by the sovereign authority, and es- 
tablished by the sovereign power. The 
prince was also the prophet. The reli- 
gion which he established, was such as 
suited the genius of the people, the nature 
of the climate, or the views of the sov- 
ereign ; and, in short, was nothing more 
than a mere engine of civil government. 
When we take a view of Christianity, a 
different scene presents itself. Here we 
see a religion published by a person, ob- 
scure and unknown, amongst a nation 
hated and despised to a proverb, one day 
to become the religion of the world, and 
to be propagated by the efforts of a few 
illiterate fishermen, who had to combat 
against the prejudices of the Jews, the 
superstition of the Gentiles, the wisdom 
of the philosophers, the power of armies 
and of kings, the ancient systems of reli- 
gion established over the whole world, 
and the combined wit and genius and 
malice of all mankind. 1 

Had our Saviour appeared in the pomp 
of a temporal prince, as the Jews expect- 
ed him ; had he appeared in the charac- 
ter of a great philosopher, as the Greeks 



122 



SERMON XXIX. 



would have wished him, often had we 
heard of his power and of his policy, and 
been told, that our religion was more 
nearly allied to this world than to the 
other. But when we hear the Author of 
our faith declaring from the beginning, 
that he must suffer many things in his 
life, and be put to an ignominious and 
tormenting death ; when we hear him 
forewarning his disciples, that they were 
to meet with the same fate, these suspi- 
cions must for ever vanish from our mind. 
Thus our religion stands clear of an ob- 
jection, from which nothing, perhaps, 
could have purged it, but the blood of its 
divine Author. 

In the second place, If we consider our 
Saviour as a pattern of virtue and all per- 
fection, the expediency of his appearing 
in a suffering state will further be evi- 
dent. 

One great end of our Saviour's coming 
into the world was to set us an example, 
that we might follow his steps. But, un- 
less his life had been diversified with suf- 
ferings, the utility of his example had 
been in a great measure defeated. What 
we generally call a perfect character, is a 
cold insipid object, that does not interest 
mankind. Were it possible for nature to 
realize the man of virtue, as drawn by 
those who misrepresent the Stoic philoso- 
phy ; a man without the feelings of na- 
ture, and the weaknesses of humanity, 
proof against the influence of passion, and 
the attacks of pain ; we would turn aside 
from such a caricature of humanity, and 
exclude the faultless monster from the 
number of our species. No example can 
make any impression upon the minds of 
man, but the example of men of like pas- 
sions with themselves. Let us suppose, 
that the life of an angel were exhibited to 
the world, it might afford a pleasant sub- 
ject of contemplation. But the question 
would naturally arise, What is this to 
me ? This does not belong to my nature ; 
I discover here no traces of my own cha- 
racter, no features of humanity. On the 
other hand, to set up an imperfect example 
for our imitation, would be attended with 
still worse consequences. We know, 
from the instances of the saints recorded 
in Scripture, how' apt men are to quote 
their imperfections as an excuse for them- 



selves, and by copying after these, come 
short of that perfection to which they 
might have arrived. 

Both these defects are remedied in the 
example of Jesus of Nazareth. His ex- 
ample is perfect, and, at the same time, 
has all that effect upon us which the ex- 
ample of one of our brethren would have 
had. When we behold the man Christ 
Jesus involved in distresses similar to 
our own, clothed with all the innocent in- 
firmities of our nature, and groaning like 
ourselves under the sinless miseries of 
life, we are touched with the feelings of 
his infirmities and his pains ; our passions 
take part with the illustrious sufferer, 
and we behold him in some measure 
brought down to our own level. It is 
from these shades that this picture de- 
rives its beauty, derives its effect upon 
the world, and that, notwithstanding the 
glory that surrounds it, we recognize our 
own image, we trace the features and the 
lineaments of humanity, and by these, are 
drawn to copy after such an illustrious 
pattern of excellence and perfection. 

The suffering state in which our Lord 
appeared, not only conduced to the effi- 
cacy, of his example, but also to its more 
extensive utility, by presenting an ample 
theatre for the sublimest virtues to ap- 
pear. It is observed by an historian, in 
relating the life of Cyrus the Great, that 
there was one circumstance wanting to 
the glory of that illustrious prince ; and 
that was, the having his virtue tried by 
some sudden reverse of fortune, and strug- 
gling for a time under some grievous ca- 
lamity. The observation is just. Men 
are made for suffering as well as for ac- 
tion. Many faculties of our frame ; the 
most respectable attributes of the mind, 
as well as the most amiabje qualities of 
the heart ; carry a manifest reference to 
the state of adversity, to the dangers 
which we are destined to combat, and the 
distresses we are appointed to bear. Had 
the Greeks consulted their own writers, 
they would have given them proper in- 
formation on this head. To approve a 
man thoroughly virtuous, said one of the 
sages, he must be tortured, he must be 
bound, he must be scourged, and having 
suffered all evils, must be impaled or 
crucified. 



THE EXPEDIENCY OF CHRIST APPEARING IN A SUFFERING STATE. 123 



Who are the personages in history that 
we admire thg most ? Those who have suf- 
fered some signal distress, and from a host 
of evils have come forth conquerors. If 
we look into civil history, need I call up 
to your remembrance the patriots of 
Greece, the heroes of Rome ; the wise, the 
great, and the good, of every age, who 
grew illustrious as they grew distressed, 
and in the darkest hour of adversity shone 
out with unwonted and meridian splendor. 
If we look' into sacred history, we shall 
find that the good and holy men, who are 
there pointed out as patterns to the world, 
like the Captain of their salvation, were 
made perfect through suffering. The most 
illustrious names that are recorded in the 
book of life, the patriarchs of the ancient 
world, the prophets of the Jewish state, 
the martyrs of the Christian church are 
witnesses on record of this important 
truth, that the most honorable laurels- are 
gathered in the vale of tears, and that the 
crown of glory sits brightest on the brows 
of those who have gained it with their 
blood. Jesus of Nazareth, too, was ap- 
pointed to learn obedience by the things 
that he suffered. All the virtues of ad- 
versity shone forth in feis life. The pa- 
tience that acquiesces with cheerfulness, 
in all the appointments of Providence, the 
magnanimity which triumphs over an 
enemy by forgiveness, the charity which 
prays for its persecutors, are striking and 
conspicuous parts of his character. But 
we injure his merit as a sufferer, if we 
consider it only as breaking out in single 
and occasional acts of virtue. His suffer- 
ings themselves, his condescending to be- 
come a victim for the sins of men, and to 
die for the happiness of the world, is an 
infinite exertion of benevolence that ad- 
mits of no comparison, that is transcend- 
ent and meritorious. The consideration 
of this, more than the circumstances of 
his departure, more than the rocks which 
were rent, than the sun which was dark- 
ened, than the dead which arose, had we 
been present at the scene, should have 
made us cry out with the centurion, 
" Surely this man was the Son of God." 

In the third place, If we consider our 
Saviour as a priest, who was to make an 
atonement for the sins of men, the expe- 
diency of his making this atonement by 



hie sufferings and death, will be manifest. 
It is one of the doctrines revealed in the 
New Testament, that the Son of God was 
the Creator of the world. As therefore 
he was our immediate Creator, and as his 
design in our creation was defeated by 
sin, there was an evident propriety that he 
himself should interpose in our behalf, 
and retrieve the affairs of a world, which 
he had created with his own hands. But 
it is evident, at first sight, that redemp- 
tion is a greater work than creation ; that 
it requires a more powerful exertion to 
recover a world lying in wickedness, to 
happiness and virtue, than to create it at 
first in a state of innocence. In the work 
of redemption, therefore, it was expedient 
that there should be a brighter display of 
the divine perfections, and a greater exer- 
tion of benevolence than was exhibited in 
the work of creation. Now, if God, with- 
out a satisfaction by sufferings, and by a 
mere act of indemnity, had blotted out 
the sins of the world, such a display of 
the divine attributes would not have been 
given. But by the Son of God's appear- 
ing in our nature, and suffering the pun- 
ishment which was due to our sins, a 
scene is presented, on which the angels 
desire to look. This, in the language of 
Scripture, was the glory that excelleth ; 
here the Almighty made bare his holy 
arm, and gave testimony to the nations 
w r hat was in the power of a God to effect- 
uate. Hereby all the perfections of the 
divine nature were glorified. That im- 
maculate purity, which cannot look upon 
sin, and that astonishing love, which could 
not behold the ruin of a sinner, were 
awfully displayed. The majesty of the 
divine government was sustained, and the 
rigor of the law was fulfilled, justice was 
satisfied, mercy without restraint, and 
without measure, flowed upon the children 
of men. In short, more glory redounded 
to God, and greater benevolence was made 
manifest to men, than when the morning 
stars sung together at the birth of nature, 
and all the sons of God shouted for joy. 

In the last place, If we consider our 
Saviour in that state of glory to which he 
is now ascended, the propriety of his being 
made perfect by sufferings will more fully 
appear. Because he humbled himself, and 
became obedient unto death, therefore 



124 



SERMON XXX. 



\ hath God highly exalted him. hath given 

him a name above every name, and com- 
mitted to him all power in heaven and in 
earth. By the appointment of Providence, 
suffering hath ever been the path to 
honor. Ought not Christ, therefore, also 
to have suffered, and to enter into his 
glory % As, upon earth, he submitted to 
the lowest degree of abasement, and ap- 
peared in the form of a servant, he is now 
in heaven, exalted to the highest pinnacle 
of honor, and appears in the form of God. 
As, in his state of humiliation, he was 
poor, and had not where to lay his head, he 
is now the Lord of nature, and inherits the 
treasures of heaven and of earth. Instead 
of the mock title of King of the Jews, 
which they wrote upon his cross, he is now 
in very deed the King of kings, and the Lord 
of lords. Instead of the crown of thorns, 
which pierced and wounded his blessed 
head, he is now for ever encircled with a 
crown of glory. 

What dignity does it reflect upon all 
our race, that one who wears our likeness, 
who is not ashamed to call us brethren, 
now sits upon the throne of Nature, now 
holds in his hand the sceptre of Provi- 
dence, and exercises uncontrolled do- 
minion over the visible and invisible 
worlds ! What abundant consolation will 
it administer to Christians in all their 
afflictions, what openings of joy will it let 
down into the vale of tears, when we re- 
collect that the Governor of the world is 
a God who partakes of our own nature, 
who, in the days of his humanity, had a 
fellow feeling of all our wants ; who, like 
ourselves, was a man of sorrows, and ac- 
quainted with grief ; who, by consequence, 
will be more apt to sympathize with his 
fellow-sufferers, and to send relief to 
those sorrows of which he himself bore a 
part. 



SERMON XXX. 

Preached at the celebration of the Sacrament of 
the Lord's Supper. 

ON GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 

Galatians vi. 14. — "God forbid that I should 
glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus 
Christ." 

" My ways are not as your ways, and my 
thoughts are not as your thoughts," said 
the Lord to the Old Testament church. 
And never, surely, did the Eternal Wisdom 
so disappoint the expectations and blast 
the hopes of men, as by the cross of our 
Lord Jesus Christ. Had men been con- 
sulted concerning the state in which it 
was most proper for the Messiah to ap- 
pear, they would have introduced him into 
the world with all the circumstances of 
external pomp and splendor ; they would 
have put into his hand the sceptre of do- 
minion over the nations, and subjected to 
his kingdom all the people of the earth, 
from the rising to the setting of the sun. 
A Messiah, whose glory should not strike 
the senses, whose kingdom was not to be 
of this world, who was to be made per- 
fect through sufferings, who was to tri- 
umph by humiliation, who was to become 
victorious by a shameful death, and in 
whose humiliation, and sufferings, and 
cross, the world was to glory ; that was 
an idea which never presented itself to 
their minds, and which, if it had present- 
ed itself, would have been immediately re- 
jected, as having no form nor comeliness, 
for which it could have been desired ; 
yet, such was the method contrived by In- 
finite Wisdom to accomplish the redemp- 
tion of the world. One great end of all 
the divine dispensations, has been to hum- 
ble and confound the pride of man. It 
was pride that at first introduced moral 
evil into the world. It was pride that 
tempted the angels to rebel against their 
Maker, that brought them down from the 
mansions of light, to the abodes of dark- 
ness and despair. It was pride that tempt- 
ed our first parents to disobey the divine 
commandment. The language of their 
apostasy was, " I will ascend into the hea- 
vens, I will rise above the height of the 



ON GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



125 



clouds, I will exalt my throne above the 
stars of God, I will be like the Most 
High." Pride, although not made for 
man in his best estate, hath not forsaken 
him in his worst. Even the fall did not 
efface the strong impression from his 
mind. As if he had continued the same 
noble being he came from the hands of 
his Creator ; as if he had been still the 
happy lord of the inferior world, he re- 
tained the consciousness of his original 
excellence, when that excellence was no 
more ; he surrendered himself to delu- 
sions which flattered his vain mind ; he 
tried new paths to elevation and worldly 
greatness ; he even appropriated to him- 
self the attributes of the divinity, and, 
possessed with the madness of ambition, 
arrogated to himself those honors which 
are due to God only. Hence the world 
deified mortal men, worshipped as its 
creators those to whom it had lately given 
birth, and adored as mortal and divine the 
human creatures whose death it had beheld. 

As man fell by pride, it was the ap- 
pointment of Heaven that he should rise 
by humility. This doctrine was early 
delivered to the world. God testified by 
his prophets, that he knew the proud afar 
off ; that the proud in heart was an abom- 
ination to him, but that he would hear 
the cry of the humble ; that though he 
dwelt in the high and holy place, he would 
dwell also with that man who was of a 
humble "and contrite spirit. But more 
than instructions were requisite to reform 
the sentiments, and change the spirit, of 
a world which had been so much intoxi- 
cated with dreams of earthly greatness, 
and so long enchanted with spectacles of 
human glory. Accordingly it pleased 
God, in the fulness of time, to send 
forth his own Son into the world, in fash- 
ion as a man, in the form of a servant, to 
become obedient unto death, even the 
death of the cross, and hath appointed all 
Christians to glory in his cross, nay, to 
glory in nothing else. " God forbid that 
I should glory, save in the cross of our 
Lord Jesus Christ." 

These words might give occasion to 
many useful discourses. All that I in- 
tend at present is, to show you by what 
means we are to glory in the cross of 
Christ, 



In the first place, then, We are to glory 
in the cross of Christ, by frequently medi- 
tating upon the circumstances of his death 
and passion. 

The human actions and events in which 
we glory, become often the objects of con- 
templation ; they present themselves spon- 
taneously to the mind, and become the 
favorite ideas of the soul. We turn them 
on all sides, we view them in every light, 
we delight in them, we dwell upon them, 
we make them our meditation day and 
night. Surely, then, it becomes us to 
revolve often in our mind this great mys- 
tery of godliness, God manifested in the 
flesh, and dying on a cross for the salva- 
tion of the world. The angels in heaven, 
as we are told in Scripture, desired with 
earnest eyes to look into the sufferings of 
Jesus ; much more should we make the 
sufferings of Jesus the object of our me- 
ditation, for he took not on him the na- 
ture of angels, but of the seed of Abra- 
ham, ^ 

Call up to thy mind, then, 0 Christian ! 
the doleful circumstances of thy Saviour's 
passion, the sad variety of sorrows which 
he suffered, the torment of body and 
agony of mind which he underwent, the 
cruel, the ignominious, and accursed death 
which he endured. Make these things 
present to thy mind, till the blended emo- 
tions of contrition and sorrow, of awe and 
wonder, of joy and pleasure, of gratitude 
and love, take possession of thy heart. 
" Can you not watch with me one hour ? " 
said our Lord to his disciples, when he 
entered into his agony. "Can you not 
watch with me one hour ? " saith our Lord 
to his disciples in every age, when they 
are about to renew the memorials of his 
death and passion. Agreeably to his dy- 
ing charge, accompany thy Redeemer, O 
Christian ! in the last- scene of his suffer- 
ings. Look to him with such a lively 
sense and feeling of his sorrows, till, like 
Paul, thou art crucified with Christ. 
While all nature is thrown into disorder, 
while the rocks are rent, and the dead 
arise, wilt thou continue unmoved ? Wilt 
thou continue harder than the rocks, and 
more insensible than the ashes of the 
dead ? No ; while thou thus musest, holy 
affections will be kindled, and the heaven- 
ly fire will burn ; from the altar which 



126 



SERMON XXX. 



was erected on the hill of Calvary, a living 
ember will touch thy lips, and purify thy 
heart. 

In the second place, We are to glory in 
the cross of Christ, by giving his death 
that rank in our estimation, and that place 
in our affections, which its importance re- 
quires. 

When we glory in any thing to an ex- 
traordinary degree, we prefer it to all 
others, we give it the chief place in our 
heart, and rest our happiness in a great 
measure upon it. And thus it becomes 
us to glory in the cross of Christ ; thus it 
becomes us to prefer it to all things, to 
give it the highest place in our heart, and 
to rest our eternal happiness on it alone. 
The manifestation of the Son of God is, 
in all regards, the most wonderful of the 
divine works, and to us in particular is 
the most important event that distin- 
guishes .the annals of time. His death 
upon the cross was the most splendid part 
of his mediatorial office ; the most illus- 
trious instance of his love to men, and the 
most meritorious act of his obedience to 
God. By his death, the wrath of God 
was averted from the world, and the 
atonement requisite for the sins of men 
was made. By his death the glories of 
the Godhead shone out with new lustre, 
the majesty of the moral law was not only 
sustained, but rendered illustrious, and a 
dignity was reflected on virtue which it 
had never known before. To his death we 
are indebted for the pardon of our sins, 
for adoption into the family of Heaven, 
and for our hopes of a happy immortality 
in the future world. His death upon the 
cross quenched the fire of hell, and set 
open the gate of heaven for a repenting 
world to enter in. 

In the cross of Christ, therefore, we do 
not glory aright, if we admire only the 
circle of virtue which shone out in his suf- 
fering state ; if we admire only the pa- 
tience with which he submitted to all the 
appointments of Providence, the fortitude 
with which he encountered all the dangers 
of life, the magnanimity which induced 
him to forgive his enemies, the charity 
which prompted him to pray for those 
who had bound him to the accursed tree, 
and that noble principle of love to man- 
kind, the spring of all his undertakings as 



our Redeemer. This merit we must do 
more than admire ; upon it we must rest 
as the ground of our acceptance with God, 
and the foundation of our title to eternal 
life. The blessed above ascribe their sal- 
vation not to their own righteousness, but 
to the merits of their Redeemer; " Unto 
him that loved us," is the strain of their 
song, " Unto him that loved us unto the 
death, and washed us from pur sins in his 
own blood, be praise and honor and bless- 
ing." " These are they," said the angel 
to the apostle John, " who have come out 
of great tribulation ; they have washed 
their robes, and made them white in the 
blood of the Lamb, therefore are they 
before the throne." 

Our virtues are insufficient to procure 
our acceptance with God, or merit a title to 
happiness in the life to come. Even man, 
in his state of innocence, could not pre- 
tend to have merit with his Creator. By 
the law of his nature he was bound to 
render obedience to that God from whom 
he received his being, and to whom he 
owed his preservation. The moral law was 
the law of his being. When he had done 
his best, he did no more than was his 
duty. If man, then, in a state of inno- 
cence, could not claim the crown of hea- 
venly glory, as the reward of personal 
merit, shall man in a state of guilt pretend 
to have merit with a holy God, with whom 
evil cannot dwell, and who is of purer 
eyes than to behold iniquity ? Supposing 
the day of judgment arrived, where is the 
man that durst face the tribunal of the 
Almighty, and demand one of the thrones 
of heaven upon the footing of personal 
righteousness ? The most arrogant pre- 
sumption durst not aspire so high. But, 
blessed be God, that though we are un- 
worthy, yet worthy is the Lamb that was 
slain, to receive blessing, and honor, and 
praise, because he hath redeemed us by 
his blood, and hath given us a right to sit 
down with him upon his throne. To 
fallen man the cross is the tree of life ; 
there grow the fruits which are for the 
healing of the nations ; fruits, which, if 
we take and eat, we shall live for ever. 

In the third place, We are to glory in 
the cross of Christ, by commemorating 
his death in the holy sacrament. 

Those events in which a nation glories 



ON" GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 



127 



the most, those events which restored or 
secured to them their liberties, from which 
they begin an era of happy time, are 
commemorated with a laudable spirit of 
joy. A day is set apart, that the memory 
of such glorious deeds may be transmit- 
ted down to posterity, and that the names 
of those who distinguished themselves on 
the occasion, as patriots or as heroes, may 
receive a just tribute of praise from all suc- 
ceeding times. Agreeably to this, the Chris- 
tian church hath in all ages set apart certain 
times to keep in remembrance this most 
important event, the death and passion of 
our Redeemer. It was the commandment 
of our Lord himself ; it was his command- 
ment, given in that night in which he was 
betrayed ; it was his last commandment 
to his disciples, " Do this in remembrance 
of me." And surely the disciple who 
loves his Lord, will be cautious how he 
disregards his dying charge. There are, 
indeed, persons in the world, who bear the 
Christian name, and who, notwithstand- 
ing, never join in this solemn ordinance. 
Although they were baptized into the 
faith of Jesus, and have never publicly 
renounced Christianity, yet, instead of 
glorying in the cross, they seem to be 
ashamed of it, and testify plainly to the 
world, that they pay no regard to the dy- 
ing charge of their Lord, and that they 
would blush to be seen at a communion- 
table. How such persons can reconcile 
their conduct to any sense of duty, to any 
idea of Christianity, is beyond my capaci- 
ty to discover. Sure I am, if they have 
any conscience, if they, have any reflec- 
tion, if they have any feeling at all, it will 
interrupt their peace of mind in life, it 
will shut up the chief avenues to comfort 
in their last moments, and prevent that 
tranquillity and fulness of joy which is 
then the portion of the Christian, to think 
that they have lived in the wilful neglect 
and contempt of an express injunction of 
their Lord, and may have, in some degree, 
incurred the guilt of those whom the apos- 
tle declares to have trodden under foot the 
Son of God. and to have counted the blood 
of the covenant wherewith they might 
have been sanctified, an unholy thing. 

You say you are unfit to approach the 
table of the Lord. Let me ask you, Are 
you fit to die ? Do you think it more so- 



lemn, more awful, to witness a good con- 
fession at these tables, than to appear be- 
fore the judgment-seat of God ? Do you 
think, that they ought to be received to the 
society of the blessed above, who never 
joined themselves to the communion of 
the saints below? Do you think that 
Jesus will admit those to sit down with 
him on his throne in heaven, who were 
ashamed to sit down with him at his table 
on earth % What is, then, I beseech you, in 
the holy sacrament, to banish any decent 
and good man from these tables ? We sit 
down at the table of the Lord, to give 
thanks unto God for his inestimable love in 
the redemption of the world ; to express 
our regard and gratitude to our Redeemer, 
who loved us unto the death ; to unite our- 
selves to all the faithful and the good, as 
being members of the same body, and to 
bind ourselves by solemn vows to the prac- 
tice of whatever is amiable and excellent 
and praiseworthy. And if there be any 
man so void of gratitude and love to God 
his Creator, and to Jesus Christ his Re- 
deemer, as to be averse to acknowledge the 
favors he has received ; if there be any man 
so dead to the feelings of the heart, to be- 
nevolence and love', as to have no bowels 
of love for his brethren of mankind ; if 
there be any man so lost to the sense of 
virtue, and to the beauty of holiness, as to 
see no charms, to feel no attractions, in 
those things which are lovely, and pure, 
and honest, and of good report ; then, in- 
deed, he is unfit to sit down at the table 
of the Lord, he has neither portion nor 
lot in this matter ; he is also unfit to join 
with Christians in any religious duty; 
nay, he is unfit to perform a decent part 
as a member of civil society. 

I address these things to those who 
absent themselves from this ordinance, 
from a wilful disregard. To those who 
are restrained by their unhappy fears and 
scruples, I speak in a different language, 
and such persons I can assure, that they 
who, after serious, and diligent, and ma- 
ture preparation, still think themselves 
unworthy, are not the least acceptable 
guests at the table of the Lord. Do you 
feel a grateful sense of the love of Jesus 
to mankind, particularly that amazing act 
of his love, in giving his life as a ransom 
for the world V Have you such a value 



128 



SERMON XXXI. 



for the covenant established by your Sa- 
viour's blood, that you are resolved to ac- 
cept of it with gratitude, and adhere to it 
with all your soul ? Have you such a 
regard to holiness and universal goodness, 
that you determine to lead decent, and 
pious, and exemplary lives ? If you have 
these, come to express that gratitude, to 
accept that covenant, and to seal those 
vows at the foot of the cross. Jesus 
breaks not the bruised reed, nor quenches 
the smoking flax. The humility of the 
heart will not banish the Eternal Spirit 
from taking up his residence with you. 

In the fourth and last place, We are to 
glory in the cross of Christ, by living to 
those purposes and for those ends for 
which Jesus died. 

We glory in the Reformation from 
Popery, when we maintain and defend that 
pure religion which was then established. 
We glory in the Revolution, when we 
support the rights and maintain the liber- 
ties which were secured to us at that me- 
morable period : and, in like manner, we 
glory in the cross of Christ, when we ful- 
fil the intention, and answer the purpose 
for which Jesus died. Jesus died, that 
he might redeem us from all iniquity, and 
purify us unto himself a peculiar people, 
zealous of good works. In this view. 
Christians, your whole life is glorying in 
the cross of Christ. When you suppress 
the motions of irregular desire, when you 
conquer the excess of passion, and subdue 
the vices which war against the soul, you 
are glorying in the cross of Christ ; for he, 
upon the cross, crucified these your ene- 
mies, and died that you might be delivered 
out of their hands. When you check in 
yourselves the spirit of animosity, when 
your heart relents towards him against 
whom your wrath was kindled, when you 
forego resentment, forgive an injury, and 
hold out the ready hand of reconciliation 
to your offending brother, you are glory- 
ing in the cross of Christ ; for he, upon 
the cross, displayed a most amazing in- 
stance of forgiveness, in praying for those 
who brought him to that accursed death. 
When your heart expands with benevolence 
to mankind ; when you feed the hungry, 
clothe the naked, and rescue the oppressed; 
when you feel the distresses of your un- 
happy brethren and relieve them, or give 



a tear to the distresses you cannot relieve, 
you are glorying in the cross of Christ : 
for he, upon the cross, exhibited a most il- 
lustrious instance of benevolence, in giv- 
ing his life for the happiness of the world. 
When you yield to the sweet impulse 
of natural affection, when you indulge the 
tender sensibilities of the heart, when you 
cultivate the spirit of a generous friend- 
ship, and join in the endearing offices of 
social life, you are glorying in the cross 
of Christ ; for he, upon the cross, gave us 
a most amiable display of these virtues. 
One of his last acts on earth was an act 
of natural affection and friendship ; from 
the cross he recommended his mother to 
the care of the friend whom he loved. 

In short, whenever you make advances 
in the divine life, and add to your faith 
virtue, and to virtue, patience, and tem- 
perance, and brotherly kindness, and cha- 
rity ; whenever you do a good deed, when- 
ever you think a good thought, you are 
glorying in the cross of Christ ; for he, 
upon the cross, perfected this character, 
and finished the pattern of universal good- 
ness for the world to study, to imitate, 
and to admire. 



SERMON XXXI. 

Preached at the celebration of the Sacrament of 
the Lord's Supper. 

ON THE SALVATION OF MAN BEING ACCOM- 
PLISHED. 

John xix. 30. — "It is finished." 

These are the last words of J esus. The 
words which he uttered when his hour 
was come ; when in the presence of a great 
assembly, he breathed out his soul in 
agony upon the cross. It was ordered by 
the providence of (rod, that as Jesus by 
his death was the Saviour of the world, 
he should die publicly, when all Israel, 
from Dan to Beersheba, were assembled 
at Jerusalem. 

There is something grand and awful in 
assembled multitudes of men, especially 
when convened on any great occasion, 
such as to pass sentence of life and death. 
In that silence of the mind, that awful 



ON THE SALVATION OF MAN BEING- ACCOMPLISHED. 



129 



pause of thought, the human genius is 
agitated strongly ; it labors in expectation, 
and fills up the dreadful interval with 
emotions of terror and astonishment. 
When, therefore, at this period, all Judea 
was present to celebrate the paschal solem- 
nity; when the great council of the nation, 
the chief priests, the scribes and the elders, 
convened in Sanhedrim, added dignity to the 
multitude ; when Pilate the Governor of 
Judea, and Herod the Tetrarch of Gali- 
lee, with their attending armies, displayed 
the grandeur of the Roman empire, and 
sustained the majesty of the masters of 
the world ; when all these were assembled 
at the time of the death and crucifixion of 
a Prophet of the Lord, how great would 
be the agitations of the multitude ! What 
astonishing ideas would strike the mind, 
when they heard the expiring Prophet 
cry out, "It is finished!" ' When in a 
moment they saw that the face of nature 
was changed ; when they felt the earth- 
quake which shook the nations; when 
they were struck with the darkness which 
veiled the sun ; when they were surround- 
ed with the inhabitants of the eternal 
world who arose from their graves, would 
not they then think, indeed, that all was 
finished, that the last hour of nature was 
come, and that the world was departing 
with its Creator ? 

Never from the time that the idea of 
creation rose in the Divine Mind, did an 
hour revolve that labored with such vast 
events. To this great point of view, as 
to the deciding hour in the annals of time, 
as to the crisis of the moral world, all the 
preceding ages looked forward, and all 
succeeding ages looked back. The grand 
question was now deciding, Whether hap- 
piness or misery should finally triumph in 
the universe of God? From this event 
the powers of hell dated the rise or fall of 
their dominion. The fate of the creation 
was now weighing in the scales. All eter- 
nity rested upon this hour. 

Whilst we are now assembled to com- 
memorate these great events, and to re- 
new the memorials of thy death and pas- 
sion, be present with us most blessed 
Jesus ! May we behold thy face, not as it 
was then covered with anguish and tears, 
but smiling upon us with heavenly com- 
placence ! Fill our hearts with love to 
9 



thee, and lead us joyfully up into thine 
holy altar ! 

" It is finished," said our Lord when he 
expired upon the cross. What was then 
finished ? The following events. God 
had early manifested to the fathers his 
purpose of grace to redeem the world. He 
chose a peculiar people from whom the Re- 
deemer was to descend, and appointed a 
dispensation of religion to prepare the world 
for his appearance. By the death of Je- 
sus, this ancient dispensation was finished. 

Jesus Christ, foretold by all the proph- 
ets, had now appeared unto Israel. As the 
Prophet of the world, he published a new 
religion which he adorned by his life, which 
he confirmed by his miracles, and which 
he had now sealed with his blood. By 
the death on the cross, his mission to the 
Jews, as the Author of a new religion, 
was finished. 

From the beginning of the world, God 
had appointed sacrifices to make atone- 
ment for sin. These could not by any 
virtue of their own propitiate the Deity, 
or purify the soul from pollution. A 
more perfect sacrifice, therefore, was ne- 
cessary in order to atone the divine wrath. 
By the death of Jesus, this atonement was 
finished. Jesus Christ, thus constituted 
the Prophet of the world, and the Priest 
who was to make atonement for the sins of 
men, was to be made perfect through suf- 
fering. By the appointment of Provi- 
dence, he was to suffer before he entered 
into his glory. By his death on the 
cross, these sufferings were finished. 

That is ; the Old Testament dispensa- 
tion was finished, the mission of Christ to 
Israel, as the Author of a new religion, 
was finished, the atonement requisite for 
the world was finished, and the sufferings 
of the Messiah were finished. 

In the first place, then, The ancient dis- 
pensation which had been erected, and the 
plan of Providence which had been carry- 
ing on to introduce the time- of the Mes- 
siah, were now finished. 

When our first parents had broken the 
covenant of innocence, had forfeited their 
title to immortality, and exposed them- 
selves to the sanction of the violated law. 
the judge descended to pronounce their sen- 
tence. But along with the terrors of the 
Judge he mingled also the grace of the 



130 



SERMON XXXI. 



Saviour ; and when he pronounced their 
doom, he comforted them with the hopes 
of mercy. He discovered to them his be- 
nevolent design of redeeming the world by 
a Mediator who was to interpose in their 
behalf, and gave them the gracious 
promise, that the seed of the woman should 
bruise the head of the serpent. Thus 
no sooner had man fallen, than the Re- 
deemer was promised who was to re- 
pair the ruins of his fall. In the follow- 
ing ages, the providence of God seems to 
have been entirely occupied in preparing 
the world for this great event. If he 
manifests himself to the patriarchs, it is to 
show them the day of the Messiah afar off; if 
he inspires the prophets, it is to foretell his 
appearance ; if he chooses a peculiar peo- 
ple, it is to render them the depositaries of 
the promises concerning his coming ; if he 
appoints sacrifices, ceremonies, and relig- 
ious rites, it is to trace beforehand the 
history of the Messiah. Do you read of 
the blood of the paschal lamb, which being 
sprinkled on the doors of the Israelites, 
secured them from the destroying angel ? 
It was a figure of J esus Christ, the Lamb 
slain from the foundation of the world, 
who, as our passover, was sacrificed to 
deliver us from eternal death. Do you 
read of a rock, which being smitten, fur- 
nished waters to a great people ? That 
rock, says Paul, was a figure of Christ, 
from whom proceed fountains of living 
waters springing up into everlasting life. Do 
you read of a brazen serpent lifted up in 
the wilderness which cured the Israelites ? 
It was a type of the Son of man, who was 
lifted upon the cross for the salvation of 
the world. In short, the whole legal econ- 
omy, the whole system of Levitical wor- 
ship was intended to prefigure, and to in- 
troduce a better dispensation. 

The plan of Providence which had been 
carrying on to prepare the world for this 
great event, was not confined to the Jew- 
ish nation ; it extended over the whole 
earth. This was the great end of all the 
designs of the Deity, and furnishes the 
key to all the divine dispensations. " If 
empires rose or fell ; if war divided, or 
peace united the nations ; if learning civiliz- 
ed their manners, or philosophy enlarged 
their views, all was, by the secret decree of 
Heavsn, made to ripen the world for that 



fulness of time when Christ was to pub- 
lish the whole counsel of God." What a 
magnificent conception, my friends, does 
it give us of the divine government, when 
we behold the princes, the kings, and the 
masters of the world, entering one after 
another upon the stage of time, to prepare 
the way of the King of kings ! 

If, in the Gentile world, a plan was 
carrying on to prepare the nations for the 
coming of the Messiah, among the chosen 
people a dispensation was erected to typi- 
fy and prefigure the great events of his 
life. The economy which was established, 
the sacrifices which were appointed, the 
ceremonies in their church, and the events 
in their history, all concurred to this 
great end. Do you read of a continual 
burnt-offering ? It was a type of him who 
through the eternal Spirit offered up him- 
self a sacrifice without spot unto God. 
Do you read of the paschal lamb ? It 
was a type of that Lamb which was slain 
from the foundation of the world. The 
law only paved the way to the gospel. 
Moses and the prophets were but the har- 
bingers of the Messiah. This ancient 
dispensation was now come to a close : 
and when our Saviour on the cross cried 
out, It is finished, " the law ceased, the 
gospel commenced." 

In the second place, The mission of 
Christ to Israel as the author of a new re- 
ligion was finished. 

God had never left the nations without 
a witness of himself. In the early ages 
of the world he sent forth his light and 
his truth. He manifested himself to the 
fathers, and taught them the knowledge 
of the true religion. From time to time 
righteous men were raised up>, and a suc- 
cession of prophets and of martyrs was car- 
ried on, whose lives and doctrines dis- 
tinguish and adorn the several ages of the 
world. One nation was chosen above the 
rest, to whom the living oracles was com- 
mitted. The particular revelations which 
had been delivered in the patriarchal ages, 
the various rays from the Father of lights 
which had been scattered over the earth, 
were here collected, and shone out with 
new splendor. Nevertheless, though God 
was the Author of this dispensation, 
though he himself was the King of J e- 
shurun, and a Lawgiver to Israel, the econ- 



ON" THE SALVATION" OF MAN BEING ACCOMPLISHED. 131 



omy which he established among his own 
people, was not intended to be immutable, 
or make the comers thereunto perfect. 
It is one of the great laws by which this 
world is governed, that no perfection of 
any kind is attained of a sudden. There 
is a rise and a progress in the works of 
nature. This holds in all the produc- 
tions of the natural, and in all the im- 
provements of the moral world. This also 
seems to liave regulated the divine conduct 
with respect to the dispensations of grace. 

" The light of religion was not poured 
upon the world all at once, and with its 
full splendor; the obscurity of the dawn 
went before the brightness of the noon- 
day. The will of God was at first made 
known by revelations, useful indeed, but 
dark and mysterious. To these succeeded 
others more clear and perfect. In pro- 
portion as the situation of the world ren- 
dered it necessary, the Almighty -was 
pleased further to open and unfold his 
gracious scheme." The light increased as 
it shone. Star after star arose to enlight- 
en and bless the earth, till the day-spring 
from on high appeared. As in the early 
period of our days the instructions 
which we receive look forward to manhood, 
and the various steps we take conduct us 
to future life ; so in this infancy of the 
church, a dispensation took place which 
was only intended to introduce a better. 
Every thing in the Jewish dispensation 
testified that it was not intended to last 
for ever. The presence of God circum- 
scribed to one nation, the place of accept- 
able worship confined to Jerusalem, the 
numerous rites and burdensome ceremo- 
nies of the Mosaic law, the typical and 
shadowy nature of the whole dispensation, 
showed that it was nothing more than a 
temporary institution, appointed to intro- 
duce a most perfect worship, and to pre- 
pare the world for a new dispensation, 
which was to comprehend every nation of 
the earth, and to extend through all the 
ages of the world. 

Accordingly Moses, the Jewish legisla- 
tor, after he had established their govern- 
ment and formed their laws, tells them that 
another prophet should arise among them, 
and deliver a new revelation : " Thus 
saith the Lord, I will raise up a prophet 
to you from among your brethren ; I will 



put my words in his mouth ; him shall ye 
hear in all things." Accordingly, the Old 
Testament church never rested upon any 
revelation which was made to them, but 
always looked forward to the promised 
era when the great Prophet should arise, 
who was to fill Zion with judgment and 
righteousness. 

As the Old Testament economy, in its 
bets estate, was but a temporary institu- 
tion, in the progress of time it was greatly 
corrupted. After the return from the 
Babylonish captivity, there was a strange 
degeneracy among the people of God ! The 
spirit of prophecy ceased, and the inter- 
course between heaven and earth was shut 
up. The Jews had been at all times remark- 
ably prone to superstition and idolatry. 
Neither the instructions of their lawgiver, 
nor the thunders of Sinai, nor the sword of 
the heathen, nor the chains of captivity, 
could cure them of this perverse spirit. 
The true prophets had always endeavored 
to lead them from the observance of those 
precepts which were " not good, of those 
statutes by which a man could not live ;" 
but in the decline of the Jewish nation, 
their public teachers, the Scribes and 
Pharisees, accommodated themselves to 
the prejudices of the people. They collect- 
ed the various rites and traditions of anti- 
quity, and formed them into a regular 
system of superstition. They explained 
away the sense and spirit of the Sacred 
Scriptures. They had recourse to what 
they called the oral law, never committed 
to writing, but delivered, as they pretend- 
ed, to Moses, and from his time handed 
down by tradition from age to age. By 
this they subverted the moral law, and 
made the word of God of none effect by 
their traditions. 

If the situation of the Jews called thus 
loudly for reformation, what might be ex- 
pected in the Gentile world ? If such was 
done in the green tree, what would be done 
in the dry? They were without God, and 
without hope in the world. Their religion 
consisted entirely of superstitious obser- 
vances, and had no connection with virtue : 
their worship was a system of abominable 
rites ; their temples were haunts of lewd- 
ness and impiety; their gods were mon- 
sters of cruelty, rage, and all the vile pas- 
sions which disgrace humanity. The 



132 



SERMON XXXI. 



doctrine of the soul's immortality, which 
had been but obscurely revealed to the 
Jews, was only a conjecture among the 
heathens. Their wise men saw the evil, 
but could not discover the remedy. They 
confessed their own ignorance, and with 
humble expectation looked for a prophet of 
the Lord, to make a revelation of the divine 
will to man. 

Whilst thus the people wandered in gross 
darkness, whilst the cloud sat deep over 
the moral world, at last the groans of the 
nations reached the ears of mercy ; the 
voice of nature mourning for her children, 
was heard in heaven. He who dwelleth 
there, rose from his throne. The Almighty 
rose in mercy, and sent his Son to be a 
light to lighten the Gentiles, and to be the 
glory of his people Israel. The Sun of 
Righteousness arising in our region, dis- 
pelled the darkness which involved the 
nations, revealed all the heavens to mor- 
tal view, and poured its radiance upon the 
path of immortality. The great Prophet 
discovered the mystery which had been 
kept hid from ages. He declared the 
whole counsel of God. He spoke as never 
man spake, and he lived as never man 
lived. His mission from God he proved 
by performing miracles and works which 
God only could perform; to these he con- 
stantly appealed as a testimony from 
heaven, and as the finger of God witness- 
ing in his behalf. Accordingly, when the 
high-priest asked him, Art thou the Christ, 
the Son of God? he answered nothing. 
Had his disciples been standing by, they 
might have replied, What need is there 
for the inquiry ? You who have the key 
of knowledge, search the Scriptures, inquire 
at Moses and the prophets who foretold 
and described his coming. Inquire at 
John the Baptist, whom you held to be a 
prophet, and who pointed him out to the 
people as the sent of God. Inquire at 
the companions and witnesses of his life, 
if an impostor had ever so many works of 
innocence and sanctity. Inquire at the 
lost sheep of Israel whom he brought back 
to the path of life. Inquire at the multi. 
tude whom he fed with a few loaves. In- 
quire at the blind whom he restored to 
sight. Inquire at the dumb, who now 
speak his praise. Inquire at the diseased 
whom he raised from the bed of affliction. 



Inquire at the dead whom he raised from 
their graves. Inquire at the seas 'and 
tempests which heard and obeyed the voice 
of their master. Inquire at the heavens, 
which thrice opened over his head, to pub- 
lish to the world that he was the beloved 
of the Father. And if these suffice you 
not, inquire at hell itself, and receive the 
testimony of the devils whom he dispos- 
sessed, — That he was :c the holy one of 
God." 

Having thus confirmed his doctrine by his 
miracles ; having adorned it by his life, it 
only remained that he should seal it with his 
blood. And when now he bowed the head 
upon the cross, his mission to Israel as the 
Author of this new revelation was finished. 

In the third place, The atonement which 
was requisite for the sins of the world was 
finished. 

As Almighty God created the world, 
he claims the right of taking it under the 
supermtendency and direction of his 
providence. In order to attain the ends 
of his administration, he acts upon a fixed 
plan, and according to wise and righteous 
laws. If there were no fixed plan of 
Providence, and no system of laws to 
govern the world, the order of society 
would soon be subverted, the happiness of 
the human race would be destroyed, and 
the earth be reduced to one vast scene of 
anarchy, confusion and uproar. That 
these laws may have their full effect, they 
must be guarded with the terrors of a 
penal sanction, and when violated be put 
in execution, in order to intimidate offend- 
ers, and prevent transgression in the time 
to come. The Judge of all the earth 
would not do right unless he executed his 
righteous laws, and punished those crimes 
which tended to the subversion of order, 
and extinction of happiness in human 
society. If men, then, throwing off their 
allegiance to Heaven, violate his righteous 
laws, and expose themselves to his 
wrath and vengeance, justice requires that 
they be punished for their sins, and the 
honor of the Godhead is pledged for the 
fulfilment of the threatening denounced 
against sin. But all of us have thus in- 
curred the divine displeasure, and become 
obnoxious to the sanction of the moral 
law. Our first parents disobeyed the di- 
vine commandments, broke the covenant 



ON THE SALVATION OF MAN BEING- ACCOMPLISHED. 



133 



of innocence, and involved us, their pos- 
terity, in the ruins of the fall. We have 
added innumerable transgressions of our 
own to that original apostasy. We have 
neglected the good which it was in our 
power to perform, and committed the evil 
from which God commanded us to abstain. 
We have sinned against the clearest light ; 
in opposition to the greatest goodness, and 
in the face of direct threatening, times and 
ways without number we have exposed 
ourselves to the wrath of God. 

But it is one of the most obvious dic- 
tates of reason, that punishment must ever 
attend on wickedness, that the soul which 
sinneth ought to die. But if sin be thus 
severely punished, if sinners be dealt with 
according to the maxims of rigorous and 
unrelenting justice, What shall become of 
the human race ? Here lay the difficulty 
that stood in the way of our redemption. 
If, on the one hand, sin was forgiven -with- 
out satisfaction, and the sinner taken into 
favor upon every new application for 
mercy, such an undistinguishing exercise 
of lenity, such a facility of forgiveness, 
would only serve to embolden offenders 
and multiply crimes. If, on the other 
hand, rigorous justice held the balance, 
if the thunderbolt was aimed at the head 
of every offender, the race of men must 
perish from the earth. Hence, the Divine 
Being is introduced in Scripture, as de- 
liberating with himself, as being straiten- 
ed how to reconcile the seemingly jarring 
attributes of mercy and justice, and how 
to make the happiness of men accord with 
the honor of his laws. " How shall I give 
thee up, 'Ephraim? How shall I deliver 
thee, 0 Israel ? How shall I make thee 
as Admah ? How shall I set thee as Ze- 
boim ? Mine heart is turned within me, 
my repentings are kindled together." 
Herein appears the wisdom of that plan 
concerted for our redemption, through the 
sacrifice of Christ, by which these seem- 
ingly jarring attributes are reconciled, in 
which mercy and truth meet together, 
righteousness and peace kiss each other. 
Hence, in that eucharistic hymn which 
the angels, at the nativity of our Lord, 
sung to the shepherds, when they ascribed 
glory to God in the highest, they also pro- 
claimed peace upon earth, and good will 
towards fallen man. By this atonement, 



all the perfections of the Deity were glori- 
fied. That immaculate purity which can- 
not look upon sin, and that astonishing 
love which could not behold the ruin of 
the sinner, were awfully displayed. The 
majesty of the divine government was 
sustained, the honor of the law was vindi- 
cated, justice, in its rigor, was satisfied, 
mercy without measure and without re- 
straint flowed upon the children of men. 
The gate of the heavenly paradise was set 
open wide to a returning world, the angel 
with the flaming sword, who guarded the 
tree of life, was removed, and a voice 
heard from the throne of mercy, " Take, 
eat, and live for ever. 7 ' 

As this doctrine concerning the atone- 
ment and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, is one 
of the fundamental articles of our holy 
faith, God, in the course of his providence, 
had prepared the world for its belief and 
reception. A sense of guilt lying upon the 
mind, and the fear of punishment from 
that Judge, who will render to every man 
according to his works, drove the sinner 
to some expedient for atoning the wrath 
of an offended Deity. It is very extraor- 
dinary, that among all the people of the 
world, the method of making atonement 
for sin was invariably the same. All the 
nations of antiquity, that are to be found 
in the records of history, all the modern 
nations whom recent discoveries have 
brought within the sphere of our know- 
ledge, however they may have differed in 
customs and manners, have universally and 
invariably agreed in making atonement 
for sin by offering sacrifices to the Deity. 
This fact is the more extraordinary, as 
such a method of propitiation is not found- 
ed on nature, is not the dictate of reason, 
nor the result of any feelings of the human 
frame. If we consult with reason, reason 
will tell us, that the Deity can never take 
any pleasure in the tortures or in the 
blood of innocent animals ; reason will 
tell us that it is impossible that the blood 
of bulls and goats, or the ashes of a 
heifer can avail to satisfy the divine justice, 
or purify the soul from sin. A practice 
therefore so universal, not founded on 
nature, nor deducible from reason, can 
be accounted for no otherwise, but by 
considering it as the remains of those an- 
cient traditions delivered to the descend- 



134 



SERMON XXXI. 



ants of Noah, and by them handed down 
to succeeding ages. Here we cannot but 
admire the wisdom and watchful care of 
Providence, that whilst many other tradi- 
tions perished in the course of time, and 
are in the gulf of oblivion, this was kept 
entire all over the world, in order to pre- 
pare the nations for the reception of 
Christianity, which establishes the capital 
doctrines of an atonement for sin upon a 
sacrifice. 

Not only were sacrifices in general use 
among the heathen, but also, among the 
most celebrated nations of antiquity, il- 
lustrious personages had arisen, who, in- 
spired with generous patriotism, had, in 
cases of danger and calamity, devoted 
themselves to certain death, to save their 
country. These self-devoted heroes, these 
martyrs to the good of mankind, were 
held in admiration by their countrymen, 
first in the song of praise, and highest in 
the temple of fame. After the publication 
of Christianity, it was no difficult task to 
transfer the praise and veneration which 
was paid to these temporal deliverers, to 
that Divine Lover of mankind, and Re- 
deemer of our race, who offered up himself 
a sacrifice for our sins, and died for the 
happiness of the world. Hence the atone- 
ment requisite for the sins of the world 
was finished. 

In the fourth place, The sufferings of 
the Messiah were now finished, and naught 
but glory was to follow. 

It seemed expedient to Infinite Wis- 
dom, to set up the Son as head ove*r the 
great family of God. It was in this ca- 
pacity that he created the earth : for it is 
one of the doctrines revealed to us in the 
New Testament, that the Son of God was 
the Creator of the world. As he, there- 
fore, was our immediate Creator, and as 
his intent in our creation was defeated 
by sin, there was an evident propriety, 
that he himself should interpose in our 
behalf. The fall of man was the loss of so 
many subjects to Christ, their natural 
Lord, in virtue of his having created them. 
Redeeming them, was recovering them 
again, was re-establishing his power over 
his own works. In the epistie to the 
Colossians, the apostle Paul runs a paral- 
lel between the relation in which Christ 
stands towards us as our Creator, and 



the new relation he acquired in virtue of 
his redemption. In the first • view, he 
styles him the image of the invisible G-od, 
the first-born of every creature ; for by 
him were all things created, and by him 
all things consist. In the second view, 
he calls him the head of the body, the 
church, the beginning, the first-born from 
the dead, that in all things he might have 
the pre-eminence. " For it pleased the 
Father that in him should all fulness 
dwell, and having made peace by the 
blood of his cross, by him to reconcile 
all things to himself." 

The scheme of thought which runs 
through the passage, seems to be this, that 
as we owed to Christ our first life, it was 
also expedient that we should owe to him 
our second ; that, as he was the head of 
the creation, and made all things, so when 
God thought fit to redeem the world, it 
pleased him that Christ should also be the 
head of this new work, the first-born from 
the dead himself, and the giver of life to 
every believer. This much we collect from 
the apostle's reasoning, and plainly discern, 
that the pre-eminence of Christ, as head of 
the Church, is connected with his pre-emi- 
nence as head of the creation, and his being 
set over the great family of God. Jesus 
Christ, thus constituted the Redeemer of 
mankind, and the Captain of our salva- 
tion in the discharge of his office, was to 
be made perfect through sufferings. 

In the present state of humanity, the 
character cannot be complete without the 
virtues of adversity. We are made for 
suffering, as well as for action ; there are 
many principles in the human frame, many 
faculties of the mind, many qualities of the 
heart, which would be for ever latent, were 
they not called forth to action by dang-er 
and distress. There is a hidden greatness 
in the mind of man, which afflictions alone 
can brino; to light. When we are bereft 
of all human help ; when heaven seems to 
forsake us, and the earth to fail beneath 
our feet, it is then that the soul asserts 
her native strength, summons all her vir- 
tue to her aid, and exhibits to heaven and 
earth an object worthy of their contempla- 
tion and regard. Afflictions thus supported 
by patience, thus surmounted by fortitude, 
give the last finishing to the heroic and the 
virtuous character. Thus the vale of tears 



JESUS CHRIST THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE. 



135 



is the theatre of human glory ; that dark 
cloud presents the scene for all the beau- 
ties in the bow of virtue to appear. Mo- 
ral grandeur, like the sun, is brighter in 
the day of the storm, and never is so tru- 
ly sublime, as when struggling through the 
darkness of an eclipse. 



SERMON XXXII. 

Preached at the celebration of the Sacrament of the 
Lord's Supper. 

JESUS CHRIST THE RESURECTION AND THE 
LIFE. 

John xi. 25. — "I am the Resurrection and the 
Life." 

" I saw in the right hand of him that sat 
on the throne," said the Prophet of the 
New Testament, — " I saw in the right 
hand of him that sat on the throne, a 
book written within and on the backside, 
sealed with seven seals. And I saw a 
strong angel proclaim with a loud voice, 
Who is worthy to open the book, and to 
loose the seals thereof ? And no man in 
heaven, nor in earth, neither under the 
earth, was able to open the book, neither 
to look thereon. And I wept much, be- 
cause no man was found worthy to open, 
and to read the book, neither to look there- 
on. And one of the elders said unto me, 
Weep not. Behold, the Lion of the tribe 
of Juda, the root of David, hath prevailed 
to open the book, and to loose the seven 
seals thereof." 

In this mysterious manner, the, apostle, 
who ascended in the visions of God, and 
saw into past and future time, represents 
the restoration of mankind to life. When 
man had fallen from his state of innocence, 
and all flesh had corrupted their ways, Al- 
mighty God, with eyes that for ever over- 
flow with love, looked down upon the earth. 
He beheld the world ; not as he had beheld 
it at first, when the morning stars sang to- 
gether, when all the sons of God shouted 
for joy, and when he himself pronounced 
that all was fair and good ; that very world 
he now beheld involved in confusion and 
uproar ; the original state of things marred ; 



the order of nature destroyed ; the laws 
of Heaven overturned ; his once beautiful 
and happy creation defaced and laid in 
ruins. He beheld his rational offspring, 
whom he had adorned with his own image, 
whom he had appointed to immortality, 
fallen from their primitive innocence, de- 
based with ignorance, depraved with guilt, 
subjected to vanity, and appointed to dis- 
solution. Following the footsteps of sin, 
which had thus laid waste his works, he 
beheld death advancing with swift steps : 
extending his dominion over the nations, 
and shaking his dart in triumph over a 
subjected world. He saw, he pitied, and 
he saved. 

Although offended with the guilty race, 
he would not cast them off for ever. His 
time of visitation was a time of love. In 
mercy to mankind he devised a scheme for 
our restoration and recovery. But man 
was not now, as in innocence, in a condi- 
tion to treat with God by himself. Be- 
tween sinful dust and ashes, and infinite 
purity, there could be no communication. A 
Mediator, therefore, was requisite to make 
peace between heaven and earth, and where 
was such a Mediator to be found ? 

Accordingly, at the declaration of the 
gracious purpose of God, for the future 
happiness of the world, when the book of 
life sealed with its seven seals was brought 
forth, a strong angel proclaimed with a 
loud voice, "Who is worthy to take the 
book, and to open the seals thereof?" 
Who is worthy to mediate between an of- 
fended God and guilty man; to unfold 
the secret purpose of the Most High, and 
to give life to a world that is dead ? There 
was silence in heaven, and silence in hea- 
ven there might have been for ever; but 
in that moment of mercy, the crisis of our 
fate, the Son of God interposed; " I am 
the resurrection and the life, by me shall 
the world live. I will forsake these man- 
sions of glory, and dwell with men. They 
who now wander in darkness, I will bring 
to light, and life, and immortality ; they 
are now under sentence of death ; that sen- 
tence shall be executed on me, and I will 
purchase for them life everlasting; they 
have now gone astray into the paths of 
perdition, I will point out to them the way 
that leads to the heavens." 

In this manner did Jesus Christ be- 



i 



SERMON XXXII. 



136 

come the resurrection and the life. As 
the Prophet of the world, he gave us the 
assurance of life and immortality ; as the 
Priest of the world, he purchased for us 
life and immortality ; and as the King of 
the world, he set before us the path that 
leads to life and immortality. 

In the first place, then, as the Prophet 
of the world, he gave us assurance of life 
and immortality. 

Curiosity, or the desire of knowledge, 
is one of the earliest and one of the 
strongest emotions of the human soul. 
No sooner does the mind arrive at matu- 
rity, but it proceeds to examine the ob- 
jects around it, and to extend its re- 
searches wider and wider over the whole 
circuit of creation. With peculiar ear- 
nestness man turns his attention to his own 
nature, and becomes the object of his 
own contemplation. But here clouds and 
darkness surround him. He perceives 
himself a stranger in a wide world, where 
the plan of nature is very imperfectly 
known, where the system of things is in- 
volved in much obscurity, and where the 
Author of the universe is a God who 
hideth himself. Life appears to him as 
an intermediate state, but he is ignorant 
of what was before it, and is as ignorant 
of what is to come after it He observes 
symptoms of decay and marks of mortali- 
ty on all the productions of nature, the 
human race not exempted from the gene- 
ral law. He sees his friends and com- 
panions, one after another, perpetually 
disappearing ; he sees mankind, genera- 
tion after generation, passing away ; pass- 
ing to that awful abyss to which every 
thing goes, and from which nothing re- 
turns. But whither do they go when 
they depart ? Have they withdrawn into 
everlasting darkness % Or do they still 
act in another scene ? We see the body 
incorporate with its kindred elements, 
and return to the dust from whence it 
was taken. But what becomes of the 
soul ? Does it, too, cease to exist ? Is the 
beam of heaven for ever extinguished ? Is 
the celestial fire which glowed in the 
heart for ever quenched % Or beyond the 
horizon which terminates our present 
prospect, does a more beautiful and per 
feet scene present itself, where the tears 
shall be wiped from the eyes of the 



mourner, where the wicked shall cease 
from troubling, and the weary be at rest ? 

If we consult our affections, we shall 
be inclined to believe in a future state. 
Nature is loth to quit its hold. The 
heart still wishes to be kind to the friends 
whom once it loved. Imagination takes 
the hint, and indulges us with the pleas- 
ing hope of one day meeting again with 
the companions whom we dropt in life. 
The perfections of the Deity favor these 
wishes of nature. If God be infinitely 
wise and infinitely good, he would not 
have brought us into being only to see 
the light and to depart for ever. Would 
a wise builder have erected such a noble 
fabric to last but for a moment ? On the 
other hand, if we consult the analogy of 
nature, the horrors of annihilation sur- 
round us. All the works of nature seem 
only made to be destroyed. The leaf 
that falls from the tree revives no more. 
The animal that mingles with the earth 
never rises to life again. Appearances 
also make against us. The mind seems 
to depend much upon the bo dy . The temper 
of the one arises from the state of the 
other. When the external senses decay, 
the faculties of the soul are impaired. 
When the blood ceases to flow, the spirit 
evaporates, the last stroke of the pulse 
seems to put a final period to the whole 
man. 

Between these fears and these wishes 
of nature, no conclusion can be drawn. 
After the maturest investigation, and 
deepest reasoning, all that we arrive at is 
uncertainty. We see the traveller in- 
volved in the cloud of night, but we know 
not of any morning that awaits him. 
The ocean spreads before us vast and dark 
and awful, but we know not if it will'waft 
us to any shore. What a disconsolate 
situation is this to a serious inquiring 
mind ? These thoughts would'perplex us 
at all times, but if they affect us with 
anxiety in the gay and smiling scenes of 
life, how will they overwhelm us with hor- 
ror, when our feet stumble on the dark 
mountains, and the shadows of the ever- 
lasting evening begin to close over our^ 
head ? In that hour of terror and dismay, 
how shall the wretched man support him- 
self, who knows not the hope of immortal- 
ity ? Afflicted with the view of his past 



JESUS CHRIST THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE. 



137 



life, tormented with present pain, and 
hovering over an abyss from which we 
know not if we shall ever emerge, How 
must it embitter the last hour, and mingle 
despair with the pangs of dissolution, to 
think on our bidding adieu to the living 
world ; to go perhaps for ever into the 
dominion of darkness, into the region of 
shadows, into the land of forgetfulness, 
where, for any thing we can tell, we shall 
be as though we had never been ! To such 
persons, the end of life must be insup- 
portable. Their setting sun goes down 
in a cloud, and the long night closes over 
their head in its darkest and deepest 
shade. 

But when the Sun of Righteousness 
arose in our region, it dispelled the sha- 
dows of the everlasting evening ; revealed 
all the heavens to mortal view, and pour- 
ed its radiance upon the path of immor- 
tality. Our Saviour did not propose- his 
doctrines as controvertible opinions, he 
confirmed them by proofs and miracles. 
Did he teach the immortality of the soul, 
and the resurrection of the body ? As an 
infallible confirmation of these doctrines, 
he himself arose from the grave, and be- 
ing the first born from the dead himself, 
he gives life to the world. The good 
man need not now live in a state of anxie- 
ty about his future existence, or mourn 
for his deceased friends as those who have 
no hope. We know that our Redeemer 
liveth; we know that we shall in like 
manner revive. 

There is a time appointed, when the 
year of the redeemed shall come ; when 
the everlasting morning shall dawn ; 
when the voice of the Son of God shall 
pierce the caverns of the tonib ; shall be 
heard over the dominions of the dead ; 
shall reanimate the ashes of all that ever 
lived upon the earth, and raise a glorious 
and immortal army from the bosom of 
corruption. 

In the name, and by the authority of 
Him who was once dead, but is now alive, 
and lives for evermore, I am this day to 
give you the bread of life, and deliver in- 
to your hand the pledges of immortality. 
It is the voice which Jesus this day ad- 
dresses to you from, these tables, " I am 
the resurrection and the life. He that 
believeth in me shall never die." 



In the second place, Jesus Christ as 
the Priest of the world, purchased for us 
life and immortality. 

When man came from the hands of his 
Creator he was innocent, and therefore 
happy and immortal. For although, in 
the present degenerate state of human na- 
ture, the imperfect virtue of good men 
neither insures their happiness here, nor 
merits an everlasting reward hereafter, 
yet if we suppose them in a state of inno- 
cence or confirmed goodness, we can nei- 
ther set bounds to their enjoyments or 
their existence. The ideas of perfection 
and felicity are inseparable ; wherever 
pure virtue is, it is in paradise ; all good 
beings throughout the universe are hap- 
py. Righteousness is by its own title, 
immortal. The spring of innocence and 
the fountain of life, for ever mingle 
their streams. 

Accordingly, as the world when it was 
first created, contained in it no principles of 
decay, so man, its noblest inhabitant, 
harbored in his nature no seeds of dissolu- 
tion. The world, if it had not been 
cursed, had moved on in its original beau- 
ty, fresh, in undecaying vigor, and fair 
with perpetual youth ; and man, if he had 
never fallen, would only have exchanged 
an earthly paradise for a heavenly one. 
For, as we are told, God created not death, 
and there was no poison of destruction in the 
world which he made. Immortality was 
a part of his image, which he conferred 
upon our first parents. Amid the garden 
of Eden a tree arose, the sacramental 
pledge of life, and sign of immortality to 
man. And if man had never fallen by 
tasting of its fruits, he would have lived 
for ever. But, by the fall, death entered 
into the world. -On the day that man be- 
came a sinner he died. The man who 
was made after the image of God, died ; 
the man who was created immortal, died ; 
and there remained a lifeless form, a 
guilty and a mortal creature, doomed to 
earn his bread with the sweat of his 
brow, to drag out a threescore and ten 
years of wretchedness and pain, and then 
to return to the dust from which he was 
taken. 

How art thou fallen from heaven, son 
of the morning ! How is the gold become 
dim, and the most fine gold changed ! The 



138 



SERMON XXXII. 



celestial spirits, appointed the guardians 
of Eden, knew our first parents no longer, 
they recollected no traces of original in- 
nocence in a form so fallen. They dis- 
cerned none of the lineaments of heaven 
in a face so clouded with guilt. They 
drove out the man ; drove him out from 
the garden of Eden, where he had access 
to the tree of life ; drove him out from 
the society of all those good beings who 
were at once happy and obedient ; drove 
him out from the presence of the Lord, 
with which, in paradise, he had been of- 
ten blessed. 

Behold him now in his fallen state ! 
Behold, 0 man ! and mourn over this 
image. Fallen from the dignity of his 
nature, and in ruins ; the beauty of inno- 
cence defaced ; the splendor of heaven 
obscured ; cut off from the career of glory 
and immortality ; his name erased from 
the book of life, no more to claim alliance 
with the Father of spirits, no more to 
rank among those happy sons of God, who 
present themselves before the Lord ; no 
more to behold His countenance in bliss, 
in whose presence there is fulness of joy, 
and at whose right hand there are plea- 
sures for evermore ! Such was the state 
into which man was brought by the fall ; 
the sentence of death passed upon him ; 
the gate of heaven shut against him ; the 
wrath of an offended God hung over his 
head. To persons in this state, what con- 
solation would it bring, to hear of an im- 
mortality beyond the grave, if it was to 
be an immortality of misery and torment ? 
To hear of heaven, and be cast down to 
hell ; to be told of the rivers of pleasure, 
which are at God's right hand, while they 
were doomed to drink the unmingled cup 
of his wrath ! 

But the Great Restorer of our race, 
the Redeemer of mankind, not only as a 
Prophet, discovered to us a future state, 
but also as a Priest purchased for us 
eternal happiness in that future state. It 
was the guilt of our sins that shut the 
gate of heaven against us, that subjected 
us to the wrath of God, and to misery in 
the world to come. But Jesus Christ, as 
our Surety and Redeemer, fulfilled that 
law which we had broken ; endured that 
wrath which we had deserved ; made an 
atonement for those sins which we had 



committed ; and by the righteousness of 
his life, by the efficacy of his sufferings, 
by the merit of his death, he satisfied the 
justice of God; he blotted out the sins 
of the world ; he abolished death ; he 
purchased life ; he quenched the fire of 
hell, and opened the heavens for the right- 
eous to enter in. Thus, what the first 
Adam, the man of the earth, had lost, the 
second Adam, the Lord from heaven, re- 
stored again. By the sacrifice of him- 
self, which we are this day to commem- 
orate, he ransomed us from destruction ; 
by his death upon the cross, of which we 
are this day to renew the memorials, he 
purchased the life of the world. 

Yes, 0 Christian ! the ransom was 
paid. While thousands of rams, and ten 
thousand rivers of oil were insufficient, a 
price of higher value was given; while 
the blood of bulls, and of goats, and the 
cattle upon a thousand hills, were unavail- 
able, a sacrifice of greater efficacy was 
offered up. The fund of heaven was ex- 
hausted ; the treasures of eternity were 
bestowed ; the blood of the Son of God 
was shed upon the cross — Yes, 0 Chris- 
tian ! the ransom was paid. Liberal to 
you is the divine benignity ; free to you 
the blessing of life flows. But the anguish 
which thy Redeemer felt, when his soul 
was exceeding sorrowful, even unto death ; 
the groans which he uttered ; the tears 
which he shed ; the fears which came upon 
him in the hour of darkness ; his bloody 
sweat during his agony in the garden ; the 
earnest prayer which he offered up, that 
the cup of wrath might pass from him for 
a time ; his complaint of dereliction upon 
the cross, when he cried, " My God, my 
God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" These 
testify at what a price the blessing was 
bought. Yes, 0 Christian ! the ransom 
was paid. When this awful event was 
transacting ; when the great hour of sac- 
rifice was solemnizing, astonishment seiz- 
ed the world. All nature labored in ex- 
pectation, when the eternal life of her 
children was procuring. An earthquake 
rent asunder the rocks, and shook the 
earth from its foundations. The sun, be- 
yond the course of nature, suffered eclipse 
in the heavens ; unusual darkness, at noon, 
overspread the nations; the invisible 
world, through all its mansions, felt that 



JESUS CHRIST THE. RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE. 



139 



tremendous hour. The dead arose from 
the grave. With astonishment the host 
of heaven looked down. Man alone, for 
whom these wonders were wrought, man 
alone was an unconcerned spectator of the 
event. — Yes, 0 Christian ! the ransom was 
paid. Behold the victim led to the sac- 
rifice, patient, uncomplaining, marking 
the way with his own blood. Who is it 
they drag like a murderer to Mount Cal- 
vary ? Who rs it they are stretching on 
a cross, and nailing to the accursed tree ? 
Prince of life ! Lord of glory ! Saviour 
of men ! Great High Priest of the world ! 
we cannot call upon thee to come down 
from the cross, for thou art now purchas- 
the eternal life for us ! — Yes, 0 Christian ! 
ing ransom was paid. The sacrifice which 
was offered up, was accepted by God. 
Jesus, before he bowed upon the cross, 
cried out, " It is finished." As a full 
confirmation that the merit of his sacrifice 
was available to purchase everlasting life, 
he rose from the dead on the third day, 
and is now ascended up on high, to take 
possession of those heavens he hath pur- 
chased for his people, and is now prepar- 
ing a place for them in those mansions, 
which are in his Father's house. 

In the third place, as the King of the 
world, he sets before us the path that leads 
to life eternal. 

Having, as a Prophet, opened up a 
future world to mortal view ; having, as a 
Priest, purchased life eternal in that fu- 
ture world, as a King he marks out the 
way by which we may ascend to take pos- 
session of that eternal life which he hath 
purchased for us. The gate of heaven is 
set open, by his blood ; but they alone who 
walk in the path which he hath appointed 
shall enter in. You come to these tables, 
not only to receive instruction from Jesus 
as a Prophet, not only to profess your 
faith in him as a Priest, but also to recog- 
nize his authority as a Legislator, and to 
vow obedience to him as a King. 

One of his first appearances on earth 
was in his legislative capacity. One of 
the first acts of his ministry was to pub- 
lish a system of laws for regulating the 
life of his disciples. Moses is celebrat- 
ed for having been faithful in his house, 
and for having ordered every thing in his 
tabernacle, according to the pattern show- 



ed him in the mount. No less faithful in 
his house was the Prophet like unto Moses, 
the Minister of the true tabernacle which 
the Lord pitched, and not man. He hath 
given us the purest and most effective 
precepts, for the regulation of our life. 
He hath pointed out our duty in every 
instance with such clearness, that he that 
runneth may read. The King of that fu- 
ture world which he hath purchased by 
his death, hath made the path that leads 
to it, not only plain but luminous. 

It shall come to pass in those days, 
saith the prophet Isaiah (describing the 
times of the Messiah), that the " eyes of 
the blind shall be opened, the ears of the 
deaf shall be unstopped ; the lame shall 
leap as an hart, and the tongue of the 
dumb shall sing. For in the wilderness 
shall waters break out, and streams in 
the desert. — And a highway shall be there, 
and it shall be called the way of holiness ; 
the unclean shall not pass over it ; but 
the redeemed shall walk there, and way- 
faring men, though fools, shall not err 
therein." Such is the perfection of the 
Christian law ; such the purity of those 
morals which J esus delivered ; such the 
beauty of the Gospel, as a rule of life, as 
to have gained the love and admiration 
of many who have disbelieved its doc- 
trines. But he gave them a still higher 
lustre by his example. The perfection of 
the Christian law, the purity of those 
morals which Jesus delivered, the beauty 
of the Gospel, as a rule of life, appear no- 
where to such advantage, as in the life of 
our Lord. There you contemplate holi- 
ness, not as a dead letter, but as a living 
form ; substantial, present, speaking to 
the world. He trode before you the path 
that leads to heaven. It is pointed out 
by his precepts ; it is marked by his ex- 
ample ; it is consecrated by his blood. 

Would you learn what virtue is, would 
you be in love with virtue, would you 
practise virtue, contemplate the life of 
Jesus; study the life of Jesus; imitate 
the life of Jesus. He to whom the Jews 
preferred a robber and a murderer, was 
fairer in his life than the sons of men, and 
purer in his heart than the angels of God. 
That head which they crowned with 
thorns, was ever intent on benevolent 
deeds, and at that very moment of time 



140 



SERMON XXXIII. 



meditated their good. Those feet which 
they bound to the cross, went about on 
errands of mercy. Those hands which 
they nailed to the accursed tree, were lift- 
ed up in devotion to God, or stretched 
out in beneficence to men. Jesus, through 
his whole life, marked out the path which 
leads to the heavens. Walk in that path, 
Christians ! You shall arrive at heaven ; 
and be of that happy number, who are to 
inhabit the mansions prepared for you, by 
Him who is "the resurrection and the 
life." 



SERMON XXXIII. 

ON THE SUFFERINGS OF JESUS CHRIST. 

Luke xxii. 44. — " And being in an agony." 

The agony of our Lord in the garden, and 
his complaints upon the cross, Tire the most 
extraordinary parts of his life. A dread 
of those sufferings which he was to under- 
go, appears to have made a strong impres- 
sion upon his mind. Forebodings of them 
frequently disturbed his repose, and over- 
whelmed his spirits. Many days before 
his passion, he cried out, lt Now am I 
troubled, and what shall I say 1 Father 
save me from this hour." It was proba- 
bly with a view to console his mind in such 
a dejected state, that he was transfigured ; 
that he re-assumed the glory which he had 
with the Father before the foundation of 
the world, and was favored with the pre- 
sence of Moses and Elias from the man- 
sions of immortality; for, as we are in- 
formed by the Evangelist, they talked of 
that decease which he was to accomplish 
at Jerusalem. Magnanimity in all its ex- 
ertions was a conspicuous part of his char- 
acter. He who walked upon the water, 
who slept in tranquillity amid the storm, 
and who encountered the foe of mankind 
in the desert, cannot be accused of a de- 
fect in courage. When a band of soldiers, 
with Judas at their head, came to appre- 
hend him, and inquired for Jesus of Naza- 
reth, he said unto them, "I am he," and 
by the dignity of his demeanor, struck 
them with awe. When he was accused by 
the chief priests and elders before the judg- 



ment-seat of Pilate, with that majestic si- 
lence which is sometimes the best expres- 
sion of fortitude, he answered not a word. 
Nay,, when he underwent the severest of 
his bodily sufferings upon the cross, he en- 
dured them with a tranquillity, a firmness, 
and magnanimity, which display a mind 
truly great and undaunted. How, there- 
fore, on some other occasions, his spirit 
was overwhelmed, is a subject worthy of 
our inquiry at all times. More particular- 
ly on this day, when we have assembled 
together to renew the memorial of his 
death upon the cross, and to recall the re- 
membrance of all his sufferings. 

In further discoursing upon this subject, 
I shall, in the first place, set before you 
the account which is given of his suffer- 
ings : and, secondly, endeavor to assign 
the causes of them. 

In the first place, I am to se,t before 
you the account which is given of his suf- 
ferings. 

That night in which he was betrayed, 
the Saviour of the world went into the 
garden of Gethsemane and ascended the 
mountain of Olives, as he was wont to do. 
This had been his accustomed retreat from 
the world; here was the hallowed ground 
to which he retired for prayer and con- 
templation ; here he had often spent the 
night in intercourse with Heaven. He 
was accompanied by Peter, James, and 
John, the very same disciples who had 
been the witnesses of his glorious trans- 
figuration, when Moses and Elias had ap- 
peared to him, and a voice had come from 
the overshadowing cloud, u This is my be- 
loved Son, in whom I am well pleased." 
What a different scene now presented 
itself! the rays of glory shone no more; 
the Divine presence was withdrawn ; the 
voice from heaven ceased ; that time was 
now come, which is so emphatically called 
the hour and power of darkness. 

He had lately partaken of the passover 
with his disciples; that passover which, 
with so much earnestness, he had desired 
to eat ; he had instituted the holy sacra- 
ment of the supper; he had delivered 
those divine discourses recorded in the 
Gospel of John; he had warned them 
against deserting him in the hour of temp- 
tation ; he had selected three of them to 
attend him in his sorrows : nevertheless, 



ON THE SUFFERINGS OF JESUS CHRIST. 



141 



even these three, thus favored, thus honor- 
ed, thus warned, forgat all that had been 
said and done, and unconcerned sunk into 
sleep. He was left alone to endure the 
bitterness of that hour. 

The severity of his sufferings in the 
garden, the anguish and the horror which 
then overwhelmed him, appear from the 
strong colors in which they are drawn by 
the sacred writers. They speak of his sor- 
row, " My soul is exceeding sorrowful, 
even unto death." They speak of his 
agony, that is, the most inexpressible tor- 
ment of mind : " And being in an agony." 
They speak of his fears : " He was heard 
in that he feared." They speak of his 
cries and his tears : " He offered up 
prayers and supplications with strong cry- 
ing and tears." They speak of the pro- 
digious effects his agony had upon his body : 
" His sweat was as it were great drops 
of blood." They speak of the desire he 
had to withdraw from his sufferings for a 
time : " Father, if it be possible, let this 
cup pass from me." 

They who are acquainted with the style 
of the Holy Evangelists, know how re- 
markable they are for simplicity of narra- 
tive. They make use of no oratorial arts 
to interest the passions of their readers, 
they affect no threatenings or embellish- 
ments of eloquence, but place the plain ac- 
tion before our view, devoid of all orna- 
ment whatever. Historians contempo- 
rary to the events which they record, 
and who beheld the actions which they 
describe, usually give free vent to their 
passions in relating the occurrences of 
their history, and enter with the zeal 
of parties upon the various subjects 
which engage their attention. The 
sacred writers, on the other hand, lay 
aside every thing that looks like passion 
or party zeal ; they relate events not like 
men who were interested in the facts which 
they describe ; not like men who had act- 
ed a part in the history they write ; not 
even with the ordinary emotions of specta- 
tors, but with all the simplicity, and con- 
ciseness, and brevity, of an evidence in a 
court of justice. The torments which our 
Saviour endured in the garden, therefore, 
must have been great and amazing, when 
the sacred writers clothe them with all the 
circumstances of terror, and paint them in 



all the colors of distress. What shall we 
say, then, to account for this dejection 
which our Lord felt, and for this desire 
which he expressed to be saved from his 
sufferings ? In the ordinary course of 
human affairs, an innocent man of common 
fortitude, resigns himself with acquies- 
cence to his fate ; his integrity supports 
him ; a good cause and a good conscience 
carry him onwards through life and death, 
undaunted and undismayed. Hence, many 
illustrious and virtuous men in the heathen 
world, supported by the native fortitude 
of the human mind, poured contempt upon 
all the forms of death, and departed with 
magnanimity and with glory. If a man 
who had only innocence to support him, 
might thus acquiesce in his doom, one 
whose sufferings were to be publicly use- 
ful, whose death was to be glorious to 
himself, and beneficial to the world, might 
rejoice in the midst of his sufferings, and 
exult in the prospect of death. In the 
early times of the Christian Church, the 
first disciples followed their Lord in a path 
that was marked with blood ; persons of 
all ranks, of all ages, and of both sexes, 
braved the rage of the enemy, the sword 
of the persecutor, tlie fire of the tormen- 
tor, became candidates for the crown of 
martyrdom, and with triumph embraced 
that very form of death at which our 
Lord, to appearance, now trembled and 
stood aghast. 

This leads us to the second thing pro- 
posed, which was to account for these ap- 
pearances; to assign the causes of our 
Lord's peculiar sufferings. In general, 
then, there were circumstances in the pas- 
sion of our Lord, of a singular kind, fully 
adequate to produce the effects here men- 
tioned. What these were, will appear 
when we consider that our Lord, died in a 
state where he was abandoned by his 
friends, and by mankind ; that he died in 
a state of ignominy ; and that he died in 
a state, where, after suffering an agony of 
spirit, he was at last forsaken by his Father 
in heaven. While the two former of these 
can hardly be paralleled in all their cir- 
cumstances, the last is entirely peculiar to 
our Lord, and constitutes the chief branch 
of his sufferings. 

First, He died in a state where he was 
abandoned by his friends and by mankind. 



142 SERMON XXXIII 



From the beginning he found the world 
against him. He came unto his own, and 
his own received him not. He was to be 
made perfect through sufferings, and many 
were the distresses which wrung his heart, 
before the decease which he accomplished 
at Jerusalem. This was the severest of 
all, from the manifold terrors that were 
now combined together. He had not only 
to carry his own cross, to have his head 
crowned with thorns, to be derided and 
buffeted, to be extended upon the accursed 
tree, to suffer the scourge, the nails, and 
the spear. All this he was superior to; 
but to be abandoned by his friends, and 
by all mankind, at the very tyue he was 
suffering for their sakes 3 was the peculiar 
and forlorn fate of the Saviour of the 
world. 

The presence of our friends, in the hour 
of trial, gives a secret strength to the 
mind ; it affords a melancholy pleasure to 
die among those with whom we lived. 
But this consolation our Saviour had not. 
He had chosen twelve friends to be the 
partners of his life, and the companions 
of his death. One of these betrayed him, 
another denied him ; all forsook him and 
fied. 

It is some relief to the unhappy sufferer, 
to have the passions of the spectators on 
his side ; from their sympathy he derives 
courage, and the pain that is felt by many 
is alleviated to the one who suffers. 

But the high and the low, the J ew and 
the Heathen, entered into the conspiracy 
against Christ. The priests and elders 
accused him. The High Priest cried out, 
" He is guilty of death." Pilate, his judge, 
though conscious of his innocence, though 
he washed his hands from the guilt of his 
death, ordered him to be scourged, and 
allowed him to be crucified. The people, 
with a frantic ardor, sought his death. 
That very people who, a few days before, 
upon his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, 
had strewed the way with palm-branches, 
and cried out, " Hosanna to the Son of 
David ; " that very people, such is the 
giddiness of the multitude, now cried out, 
" Crucify him, crucify him." Thus, in his 
sorrows, he stood by himself, a wretched 
individual without a friend. When the 
Shepherd was smitten, the sheep were scat- 
tered abroad. He trode the wine-press 



alone. Of the people there were none 
with him. When he died for all, he was 
pitied by none. 

In the second place, He died in a state 
of ignominy. The death of the cross was 
not only painful and tormenting, but igno- 
minious also, and accursed. A death that 
was never inflicted upon free men, but re- 
served for slaves and malefactors, for the 
basest and the vilest of the human kind. 
There is implanted in the mind of man a 
strong abhorrence of shame and disgrace. 
The sense of ignominy is more pungent in 
a noble nature, than the feeling of pain. 
To want the appearance of innocence, 
while, at the same time, we preserve the 
reality ; to lie under the imputation of 
heinous crimes ; to die the death of a 
criminal, and leave the world with an in- 
delible stain upon our name and memory, 
is one of the sorest trials that virtue can 
meet with upon earth. Yet even this our 
Lord had to suffer. He had to endure 
the cross, and submit to the shame. It 
was foretold by the Prophet, that he 
should be "numbered amoDg transgres- 
sors." And although he was holy, harm- 
less, undefiled, and separate from sinners, 
yet he was impeached of the highest 
crimes : not only as a violator of the di- 
vine law, in breaking the Sabbath, and 
frequenting the company of sinners, but 
also as an impostor, deluding the people ; 
as a blasphemer, assuming to himself the 
prerogatives of God; and as a seditious 
person, perverting the nation, usurping 
royal authority, and forbidding to give 
tribute to Csesar. " If he had not been a 
malefactor," said the Jews to Pilate, " we 
should not have delivered him up to thee." 
The resentment of such a situation our 
Lord felt strongly, and discovered in that 
remarkable speech, " Are ye come against 
me as against a thief, with swords and 
with staves ? " Thus, our Lord was not 
only a sufferer, but in appearance a crim- 
inal : he had not only to endure the pain, 
but the ignominy of the cross ; not only 
to be wounded and tormented, but also to 
be mocked, reviled, and scorned by the 
vilest of mankind. Then were fulfilled 
the words of the mystical Prophet, " I am 
a reproach of men, and despised of the 
people. All they that see me, laugh me 
to scorn : they shoot out the lip, they 



ON THE SUFFERINGS OF JESUS CHRIST. 



143 



shake the head, saying, He trusted on the 
Lord, that he would deliver him : let him 
deliver him, seeing he delighted in him." 
There is not a circumstance in the history 
of mankind so ignominious, and to an in- 
genuous nature so tormenting, as the fol- 
lowing, which is recorded by the Evange- 
lists. Pilate said, " Shall I release 
Jesus ? " " They all cried, Not this man, 
but Barabbas. Now Barabbas was a 
robber." 

There is a misapprehension into which 
we are apt to fall, in considering the suf- 
ferings of Jesus Christ. Whenever he 
appears before our eyes, the splendor of his 
Divinity overcomes the mind, and in the 
Lord of Glory the man of sorrows is for- 
gotten. But, my friends, you are to re- 
member that as God is by his nature in- 
capable of pain or sorrow, in all scenes of 
distress, the Divinity withdrew, that the 
Humanity might suffer. Yes, Christians, 
the man Christ J esus was like one of our- 
selves, as encompassed with the same in- 
firmities, and subjected to the same dis- 
tresses ; as accessible to sorrow, and as 
sensible of ignominy and pain. 

Thirdly, Our Lord died in a state, 
where, after undergoing an agony of spirit, 
he was at last forsaken by his Father in 
heaven. The presence of God, and the 
aids of his Holy Spirit, have always been 
the consolation of good men in their afflic- 
tions. They experienced the fulfilment 
of these promises, " As thy days are, so 
shall thy strength be. When thou goest 
through the waters I will go with thee, and 
through the rivers, they shall not overflow 
thee. Our fathers trusted in thee," saith 
the Psalmist, "they trusted, and thou didst 
deliver them." But in the sufferings en- 
dured by the Redeemer in the garden, 
and on the cross, God departed from 
him, and the Divine presence was with- 
drawn. 

Christians ! what an hour was that, 
which our Saviour passed in the garden 
of Gethsemane ! In the time of his passion, 
his torments succeeded one another. He 
was not at the same time betrayed, mocked, 
scourged, crowned with thorns, pierced 
with a spear, extended on a cross, and for- 
saken by his Father ; but here all these 
torments rose before him at once : all his 
pains were united together : what he was 



to endure in succession, now crowded into 
one moment, and his soul was overcome. 
At this time, too, the powers of darkness, 
it should seem, were permitted to work 
upon his imagination, to disturb his Spirit, 
and make the vale through which he was 
to pass, appear more dark and gloomy. 

Add to this, that our Saviour having 
now come to the close of his public life, 
his whole mediatorial undertaking present- 
ed itself to his view ; his eye ran over 
the history of that race which he came to 
save from the beginning to the end of 
time ; he had a feeling of all the misery, 
and a sense of all the guilt of men. If he 
looked back into past times, what did he 
behold ? The earth a field of blood, a 
vale of tears, a theatre of crimes. If he 
cast his eyes upon that one in which he 
lived, what did he behold? That nation 
to whom he was sent, rejecting the counsel 
of God against themselves, imprecating 
his blood to be upon them and their chil- 
dren, and bringing upon themselves such 
a desolation as has not happened to any 
other people. When he looked forward 
to succeeding ages, what did he behold ? 
He saw that the wickedness of men was 
to continue and abound, to erect a Golgo- 
tha in every age, and by obstinate impeni- 
tence, to crucify afresh the Son of God. 
He saw that in his blessed name, and un- 
der the banners of his cross, the most atro- 
cious crimes were to be committed, the 
sword of persecution to be drawn, the best 
blood of the earth to be shed, and the no- 
blest spirits that ever graced the world to 
be cut off ; he saw that for many of the 
human race all the efforts of saving mercy 
were to be defeated ; that his death was 
to be of no avail ; that his blood was to be 
shed in vain ; that his agonies were to be 
lost, and that it had been happy for them, 
if he had never been born. He saw that 
he was to be wounded in the house of his 
friends ; that his name was to be blasphem- 
ed among his own followers ; that he was 
to be dishonored by the wicked lives of 
those who called themselves his disciples ; 
that one man was to prefer the gains of 
iniquity, another the blandishments of 
pleasure, a third the indulgence of mali- 
cious desire, and all of you, at times, the 
gratification of your favorite passion, to 
the tender mercies of the God of peace, 



144 SERMON 

and the dying love of a crucified Redeemer. 
While the hour revolved that spread forth 
all these things before his eyes, we need 
not wonder that he began to be in agony, 
and that he sweated as it were great drops 
of blood. 

On the cross that agony returned, and 
was redoubled. Judge of what he felt, 
by the expressions of the Prophet in the 
mystical psalm, " My God, my God, why 
hast thou forsaken me, why art thou so 
far from helping me, and from the words 
of my roaring ? 0 my God, I cry in the 
day-time, but thou hearest not, and in the 
night-season I am not silent. Our fathers 
trusted in thee ; they trusted, and thou 
didst deliver them. But I am a worm, 
and no man, a reproach of men, and de- 
spised of the people. I am poured out 
like water. My heart is melted like wax 
in the midst of my bowels ; thou hast 
brought me to the dust of death." 

This constituted what the ancient 
church called the unknown sufferings of 
Christ. In the cup which the Father gave 
him to drink, there was something sharper 
than the vinegar, and more bitter than 
the gall. The darkness which at that time 
covered the face of the earth, was but a 
faint emblem of that blacker cloud which 
overwhelmed his soul. What the degree 
of these unknown sufferings was, how they 
were inflicted, or how they were sustained, 
we cannot tell. But the complaint of de- 
reliction which the Saviour then uttered, 
the sense which all nature had of its Cre- 
ator rising in wrath, when the earth trem- 
bled, the rocks were rent asunder, and the 
grave gave up its dead, testify that they 
were such as God only could inflict, and 
the Son of God only could sustain. 

Never was there sorrow like unto this 
sorrow wherewith the Lord now chastened 
him in the day of the fierceness of his an- 
ger. Upon his agony in the garden, an 
angel from heaven strengthened him. 
But in this hour, when he bore the sins 
of his people, when the pangs of death 
took hold of him, when the sorrows of hell 
encompassed him ; in this hour of unut- 
terable woe, where were the heavenly mes- 
sengers, and where was the countenance 
of his Father, which used to comfort him,, 
and to smile upon him ? Alas ! from his 
Father' proceeded those very sufferings. 



' XXXIII. 

the severest of all which he was now ex- 
periencing. From him came the cup of 
trembling, which he was now doomed to 
drink, and the vials of vengeance which 
were now poured upon his head. Aban- 
doned and smitten, and overwhelmed, he 
cried out, " My God, my God ! why hast 
thou forsaken me ? " 

The measure of his woe was now full : 
the sufferings of Christ were completed. 
Before he bowed the head and yielded up 
the ghost, he looked up to the heavens, 
and saw the darkness disappearing from 
before the throne of God. Filled with 
celestial satisfaction, " Father," said he, 
" into thy hands I now commit my spirit." 
There was but one pang more. The last 
cloud was vanishing from the sky, and all 
was to be serene for ever. 

From such a subject, Christians, what 
sentiments arise in your breasts and what 
reflections ought we to conclude with? 
How is the condition of our Redeemer 
now changed ! From a scene of terror and 
distress, he is exalted to the right hand 
of the Majesty in the heavens. As the 
sun broke out from the eclipse which it 
then suffered, so did the light of his 
Father's countenance upon his soul. 
Shame, and sorrow, and suffering, were 
succeeded by glory, and victory, and tri- 
umph. 

What consolation does not this yield to 
Christians in all their afflictions ! The 
high-priest under the Law was taken from 
among men, that he might have compas- 
sion on the ignorant, and on those who 
were out of the way ; for that he himself 
was also compassed with infirmity. So 
likewise " we have not a high-priest who 
cannot be touched with the feeling of our 
infirmities, but was in all points tempted 
like as we are, but without sin." " It be- 
hoved him to be made like unto his breth- 
ren, that he might be a merciful and faith- 
ful high-priest, in things pertaining to 
God, to make reconciliation for the sins 
of the people : for in' that he himself hath 
suffered, being tempted, he is able to suc- 
cor them that are tempted." 

I shall conclude with another reflec- 
tion. Persons of humane and compas- 
sionate feelings, when they hear the ac- 
count of their Saviour's sufferings, are apt 
to be moved with pity for his distresses, 



ON THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS CHRIST. 



145 



and to be actuated with indignation against 
his enemies. But these passions, in the 
present case, my brethren, are misapplied. 
' Weep not for me, ye daughters of Jeru- 
salem," said our Lord, when in the midst 
of his sufferings. These sufferings were 
not intended to excite the sighs of sensi- 
bility, and the tears of distress. Sympa- 
thy is not the proper return for his love. 
His sufferings are the objects of your 
faith, and ought to awaken your gratitude. 
Neither vent your wrath against the ene- 
mies and the crucifiers of your Saviour. 
Look inwards, 0 man ! search thine own 
bosom : there dwell the murderers of thy 
Lord. Thy sins, thy crimes, thine unhal- 
lowed desires and unmortified passions 
were the actors in that dreadful scene. 
The Jews and Romans were but instru- 
ments in their hands : but the feeble exe- 
cutioners of that wrath which they pro- 
voked and drew down. On these, there- 
fore, exhaust thy vengeance : bring forth 
those enemies of thy Saviour, and slay 
them before his eyes. 

How will it affect the mind with con- 
trition and godly sorrow, when, on this 
solemn occasion, you call up your past 
sins to your remembrance ! How will it 
grieve you to think, as one by one they 
pass before you in review, that each of 
them added a pang to your Saviour's 
agony, and formed the bitter ingredients 
of that cup which he drank ! Will not 
this consideration break your covenant 
with death, and disannul your agreement 
with hell ? Can you ever again cherish 
those sins in your heart, which not only 
crucified the Lord of glory upon Mount 
Calvary, but which even now crucify him 
afresh, and put him to open shame ? 

But, Christians, I hope /better things 
of you. On this occasion, let me beseech 
you, by the sufferings of your crucified 
Redeemer, to break off your iniquities by 
repentance. Resolve sincerely, by the 
grace of Grod, to live no longer in sin. 
Finally, implore the assistance of the Di- 
vine Spirit, to renew your wills, and pu- 
rify your souls. Then may ye rejoice in 
this the day of your solemnity, and be 
welcome guests at the table of the Lord. 
Then shall ye be joyfully invited to the 
marriage-supper of the Lamb. Then shall 
Jesus manifest himself to you in the 
10 



breaking of bread. He shall say unto 
your souls, " Be of good cheer, thy sins 
are forgiven thee ; " and inspire into you 
the well-grounded hope of sitting down 
with him at his table above, where in his 
presence ye shall rejoice for evermore. 
Which may Grod grant, and to his name 
be the praise ! — Let us pray. 



SERMON XXXIV. 

ON THE RESURRECTION OP JESUS CHRIST. 

Matthew xxviit. 6. — "Come, see the place 
where the Lord lay." 

When our Saviour expired upon the cross, 
the cause of Christianity seemed to be 
lost. Rejected by that nation to whom 
he was sent, condemned under the forms 
of a legal trial, and crucified as a male- 
factor before all the people, an effectual 
bar seemed to have been put for ever to 
all his designs. It then seemed that all 
was over. A people whom their prophets 
taught to look for' a king, did not look for 
him to come down from a cross ; a nation 
who expected the appearance of a Messiah, 
did not expect him to appear from the 
grave. His followers were few in num- 
ber, and feeble in spirit. Although he 
had frequently foretold his death, the idea, 
of a temporal prince was so strong in thein 
minds, that they could not reconcile them- 
selves to the thought of a suffering Sa- 
viour ; and though he had also on various 
occasions foretold his resurrection,, they 
were so much under the power of preju- 
dices, deeply rooted, that they either did, 
not understand, or did not believe, his 
predictions. When he was apprehended 
by a band of soldiers, they forsook him 
and fled ; they had not courage to attend 
him in the last hour of his life ; to go 
with him to the tribunal and to the cross : 
afar off only, they followed with their eyes, 
and beheld with tears, him whom they ex- 
pected to behold no more. Then they 
gave up all for lost. The sun } which was 
soon after darkened by a preternatural 
eclipse, and the rock which was rent asun- 
der by an earthquake^, appeared to be the: 



146 



SERMON XXXIV. 



sad tokens of a glory that had departed, 
and of a kingdom that was to be no more. 

Dark and dismal were the shades of that 
night which descended on the Saviour's 
tomb : the hearts of the disciples were 
troubled, and their Comforter was gone. 

All the scenes of their past lives, the 
miracles they had seen, the discourses 
they had heard, the hopes they had en- 
tertained, were like a dream ; they aban- 
doned themselves to despair, and, as we 
learn from the evangelist Luke, they were 
about to leave Jerusalem, and betake 
themselves to their old employments. 

While the enemies of J esus triumphed, 
and his friends lamented, the counsels of 
heaven were executing, and the operation of 
the Almighty was going forward. We read 
in the Gospel of Matthew — " In the end 
of the Sabbath, as it began to dawn to- 
wards the first day of the week, came 
Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, to 
see the sepulchre. And behold, there 
was a great earthquake ; for the angel of 
the Lord descended from heaven, and 
came and rolled back the stone from the 
door, and sat upon it. His countenance 
was like lightning, and his raiment white 
as £now. And for fear of him, the keep- 
ers did shake, and became as dead men. 
And the angel answered and said unto 
the women, Fear not ye : For I know 
that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. 
He is not here : For he is risen, as he 
said : Come, see the place where the 
Lord lay." 

The nativity of our Lord had been an- 
nounced by an angel to the shepherds 
of Bethlehem. " While they were abid- 
ing in the field, and keeping watch over 
their flocks by night, Lo, the angel of 
the Lord came unto them, and the glory 
of the Lord shone round about them ; and 
the angel said unto them, Fear not, for be- 
hold I bring unto you glad tidings of great 
joy, which shall be unto all people ; for 
unto you is born this day, in the city of 
David, a Saviour, which is Christ the 
Lord." In like manner, his second nativ- 
ity, his resurrection to a new life, was 
here announced by an angel. What emo- 
tions would arise in the minds of these 
ministers of heaven, who had attended him 
through his life, we cannot tell : this only 
we know, that "into these things they 



desire to look." Much more then doth it 
become us to contemplate the life and 
death and resurrection of our Lord ; for 
he took not on him the nature of angels, 
but of the seed of Abraham. Christians ! 
you have this day beheld your Saviour set 
forth crucified among you ; let us now 
contemplate him as arising from the dead, 
and appearing in glory : you have already 
sat at the foot of the cross, and I hope 
reaped benefit from the commemoration of 
your Redeemer's passion ; let me now 
carry you to the tomb, to behold " the 
place where the Lord lay." 

Behold then, in the first place, in the 
resurrection of your Lord, the proof that 
the redemption of the world is accom- 
plished. 

Our salvation is every where ascribed in 
Scripture, to the death and passion of our 
Saviour. As our great High Priest, he 
made an atonement for the sins of the 
world upon the cross ; his death was our 
redemption, and his blood the ransom that 
was paid for the soul : but his resurrection 
was the proof, that the sacrifice which he 
offered up was accepted by God, and that 
the price which he paid, was available for 
our recovery. By his suffering unto death, 
we were freed from condemnation ; but 
our freedom was not made manifest till 
he arose from the grave. His resurrec- 
tion then is the basis of the whole Chris- 
tian institution, and the ground of our 
faith and of our hope in him. That Christ 
appeared on earth as a Great Prophet • 
that he passed his days in instructing and 
reforming the world ; and that after a life 
of eminent and exemplary goodness, he 
died the death of a malefactor, was com- 
mon to him and others, whom God had 
raised up to be the lights of the world, 
and patterns to mankind. Thus the pro- 
phets of old were persecuted and destroy- 
ed by sundry kinds of death; thus the 
martyrs, since the time of our Lord, were 
cut off in a cruel and ignominious man- 
ner : but in their deaths there was no ex- « 
piation for sin ; the blood of the prophets 
and of the martyrs spoke no such lan- 
guage ; their blood cried, indeed, to hea- 
ven — not for mercy, but for vengeance 
against a guilty world. If Christ had died 
like one of them, and been heard of no 
more, how should we have believed that 



ON THE RESURRECTION" OF JESUS CHRIST. 



147 



his death had atoned to the penitent, for 
all the blood that had been shed from the 
foundation of the world? How should 
we have believed that the whole earth had 
obtained remission of sin from God, by de- 
stroying one prophet more ? Although he 
had declared, that he was to be offered up 
as a sacrifice, and to give his life a ransom 
for many, if he had never appeared again, 
How should we have known that the sacri- 
fice was accepted, or that the ransom was 
paid ? The natural conclusion then to be 
drawn was, that his labors had been in 
vain. Then might we have said with the 
disciples, who were going to Emmaus, 
" We trusted that it had been He who was 
to have redeemed Israel ;" but now all our 
hopes are buried in his grave. When he 
burst the bands of death, and rose victo- 
rious from the tomb, then it was manifest 
to all, that he had finished the work which 
the Father gave him to do. For if hejhad 
not accomplished his undertaking, and ex- 
piated the sins of the world, he had never 
been released from the prison of the grave. 
When he 'arose, therefore, and brought 
back with him the pardon which he had 
sealed with his blood ; when, instead of 
executing wrath upon his enemies, he sent 
again the offer of peace and reconciliation, 
and took upon himself to be their inter- 
cessor, as he had already been •their sacri- 
fice, what room was there to doubt of the 
efficacy of his death, the efficacy of which 
was so undeniably confirmed by his resur- 
rection? 

Here, therefore, we hail the completion 
of that plan by which the world was to be 
redeemed ; here we rejoice over the finish- 
ing of the new heavens and new earth, 
wherein righteousness is to dwell, and 
come to the close of the celestial song, 
which ascribed glory to God in the high- 
est, peace upon the earth, and good will 
towards men. Now we may join in the 
triumphant language of the apostle, " It 
is God that justifieth, Who is he that eon- 
demneth ? It is Christ that died, yea 
rather that is risen, who is even at the 
right hand of God, who also maketh inter- 
cession for us." As if he had said, " Who 
can condemn those whom God hath justi- 
fied, and for whom Christ hath died ? Our 
great High Priest hath now offered up the 
sacrifice which was requisite for the re- 



demption of the world. The wrath of God 
is atoned ; the guilt of sin is taken away ; 
peace is made between God and man ; and 
there is joy in heaven over the world'of 
the redeemed." That this sacrifice was 
acceptable and meritorious in the sight of 
God, he hath testified unto all men, by 
raising his Son from the dead, by exalting 
him to his own right hand, and commit- 
ting to him the sceptre of Providence, to 
rule and govern for the good of his Church. 

In the second place, Christians, behold 
your Saviour at his resurrection, entering 
into his glory. 

His first appearance was not distin- 
guished by marks of greatness or splen- 
dor. The wise men who came from the 
east to worship the King of the Jews, ex- 
pected not to find him a babe at Bethle- 
hem, lying in a manger. Descended of 
humble parents, and born in a mean con- 
dition, he passed his early life in obscu- 
rity, and in the labors of poverty. What 
the Prophet calls the " stem from Jesse," 
was, at its first appearance, but a root 
out of a dry ground ; it had no form nor 
comeliness, for which it could have been 
desired. Hitherto it had been only un- 
known and obscure ; and at the time of 
his appearing unto Israel, he was a man 
of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. But 
even while he stood forth in the power of 
the Lord, and confirmed his mission by 
the miracles which he wrought, the oppo- 
sition to him increased, and every act of 
charity he did to others, became a new 
source of misery to himself. During this 
time in which he went about doing good 
to all the sons of men, he had not where 
to lay his head. When he cast out devils, 
he was immediately charged with being in 
league with the prince of them. When he 
sat with publicans and sinners, he was 
called a glutton and a wine-bibber. When 
he healed the sick of their infirmities, and 
forgave their sins, then was he called a 
blasphemer, and an encroacher on the pre- 
rogative of God. When he restored the 
withered hand, and cured the blind or the 
lame on the Sabbath-day, then is he no 
longer fit to live. These were such 
offences as nothing but his death could 
expiate. And to death at last they brought 
him. He is betrayed by one of his own 
disciples, and carried to judgment. He 



148 SERMON 

is charged with the most opprobrious 
crimes. In cruel sport they pay him the 
mock honors of a prince ; they crown him 
with thorns; they put a reed into his 
hand ; they bow the knee before him, and, 
with profane and impious derision, cry, 
"Hail, King of the Jews." And that 
nothing might be wanting, to show how 
much he was despised and rejected of men. 
the question was put between him and a 
murderer, which should be released ; and 
with one voice, the people answered, 
""Release unto us Barabbas." He was 
then nailed to the accursed tree, and died 
the death of a malefactor. 

And is this the Messiah whom the Jews 
expected, and whom the prophets had fore- 
told ? Is this He, concerning whom 
Isaiah had prophesied, " Unto us a Son is 
born, unto us a Child is given, and his 
name shall be called Wonderful, Counsel- 
lor, the Mighty God, the everlasting 
Father, the Prince of Peace?" Is this 
he who was to raise up the tabernacle of 
David ; who was to repair the desolations 
of many ages ; who was to sit upon the 
throne of Zion r extend his dominion from 
sea to sea, and from the river to the ends 
of the earth ? Yes, it is he ! But, as the 
Scriptures foretold, he must suffer before 
he enter into his glory. Hence, saith the 
same prophet, when he shall be stricken for 
the transgression of the people, and make 
his soul an offering for sin, then he shall 
prolong his days, and the pleasure of the 
Lord shall prosper in his hand. At his 
resurrection, the prophesies of the Old 
Testament are understood, and the scan- 
dal of the cross is wiped away. The his- 
tory of the man of sorrows ends, and the 
Lord of Glory appears. A brighter train 
of years begins, and a new era of happy 
time revolves. From the cloud which had 
concealed him long, he now issues forth 
in the beauties of immortality ; from the 
veil which had obscured him in the days 
of his flesh, the splendor of his divinity 
now shines forth ; celestial rays circle and 
distinguish his head ; and he appears to 
be the Son of God with power, when he 
comes in triumph from the tomb, having 
subdued the powers of death, and leading 
captivity captive. He now sees the tra- 
vail of his soul, and is satisfied ; he enters 
on the joy that was set before him ; and 



XXXIV. 

has all power committed to him in heaven 
and in earth. 

In the third place, Christians, behold 
in the resurrection of your Lord, your na- 
ture restored to its original dignity. 

Man was at first made after the image 
of God, clothed with the robe of innocence, 
and crowned with the honors of immortal- 
ity. There was no discord among the 
principles of his frame ; no darkness in his 
mind, and no disorder in his heart. Hap- 
py and harmonious was the temper of his 
soul. Order, the great law of heaven, 
was also the law of man. He had a para- 
dise without, and a fairer paradise within. 
But by his disobedience and fall he be- 
came a different person : his nature was 
degraded, and his dignity was lost. He 
who was the Lord of the inferior world, 
and was invested with dominion over the 
works of nature, was now sunk into a state 
little superior to the beasts that perish. 
This change was the death of the man 
whom God had created ; the divine life 
was no more ; the image of God lay bu- 
ried under the ruins of iniquity. Hence 
the human form in Scripture is called a 
" body of death; " and the world is said 
to be " dead in trespasses and sins." But 
as by man came death, by man came also 
the resurrection to life. As in Adam all 
die, so in Christ all are made alive. " The 
creature was made subject to vanity, not 
willingly.'" We consented not to the de- 
gradation of our nature ; and he who sub- 
jected us in hope hath restored us again. 
Christ rose as the representative of all his 
people ; as the Leader of an innumerable 
multitude who shall follow him into the 
heavens. Hence we are said in Scripture 
to be begotten again by the resurrection 
of Christ from the dead ; to be made alive 
with Christ; to be risen with him; and 
sit with him in heavenly places. Here 
then you behold your nature rising anew 
from the tomb of Christ ; fair as when it 
first came from the hands of the Creator, 
when he saw his own image, and pronoun- 
ced it good. Here you behold it rising 
with additional honor ; made at first a lit- 
tle lower than the angels, it was assumed 
by one who was greater than they, and is 
now dignified in heaven by him before 
whose throne the angels of God worship. 

In the last place, Christians, behold in 



ON THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS CHRIST. 



149 



the resurrection of Christ, the proof and 
the earnest of your own resurrection. 

Our Saviour not only taught the immor- 
tality of the soul, but also the resurrec- 
tion of the body. This doctrine was new 
to the world, and contrary to the observa- 
tion of mankind ; for there is nothing in 
the whole compass of nature, that yields 
a similitude to dust and ashes rising up 
again into organised bodies, and to perpet- 
ual life. It required therefore a proof of 
a particular kind, which it obtained ; for 
as a proof that the dead were to arise, our 
Saviour arose from the dead. Hence God 
is said to have given assurance to all men 
of the general resurrection, by raising his 
Son from the dead. This subject is han- 
dled professedly, and at great length, by 
the apostle Paul, in a most eloquent dis- 
course to the Corinthians, part of which 
I shall now read to you. J Cor. xv. 20, 
21,22,23. " But now is Christ risen 
from, the dead, and became the first fruits 
of them that slept. For since by man 
came death, by man came also the resur- 
rection of the dead. For as in Adam all 
die, even so in Christ shall all be made 
alive. But every man in his own order : 
Christ the first-fruits; afterwards they 
that are Christ's, at his coming. " 

In the times of the apostle, this doc- 
trine was more felt than it is now ; a strong 
impression of immortality did then animate 
the disciples of Jesus. From whence,- but 
from this doctrine, proceeded the zeal and 
spirit of the primitive Christians, who em- 
braced the religion of Jesus at the expense 
of all that was dear, and at the peril of 
their lives. The sword of the persecutor 
had no terrors, when they saw it succeeded 
by a crown of glory. When ;they looked 
on the shore of bliss and immortality, 
they trembled not, though they knew they 
had to swim through a sea of blood. Even 
when death was before their eyes, their 
hearts sprung with joy, and their hopes 
began to bloom. Not the frown of the 
tyrant, nor the face of the king of terrors, 
nor the executioner that thirsted for blood, 
could rob them of their peace. They 
looked upon these as messengers sent by 
Providence, to carry them to that better 
world where their hearts longed to be. This 
was the armor by which the saints and 
martyrs overcame the world ; by which 



they triumphed over pain, and ignominy, 
and death, and looked upon fires and racks, 
and gibbets, upon every engine of torture, 
and every form of dissolution, as so many 
doors opening into the kingdom of glory. 
They were invincible, because they knew 
they were immortal. 

From the doctrines which have been 
now laid down, let us conclude with some 
inferences and reflections. 

Christians, you are the disciples of a 
risen Redeemer. As we glory in his cross 
and passion, let us also rejoice in his re- 
surrection. The disciples were glad when 
they saw their Lord restored to life again ; 
and the first Christians considered it as 
such a joyful event, that they used to 
greet one another with this salutation, 
" Christ is risen." He who was once dead, 
is now alive, and lives for evermore. He 
hath removed the terror and the sting of 
death ; he hath hallowed the grave as a 
place of rest for all his followers, and 
risen as the Forerunner of the faithful, 
who shall rise to eternal life. He left the 
vestments of mortality behind him. Death 
hath no more dominion. And if ye be 
risen with Christ, put off the old man and 
his affections ; let sin have no more domin- 
ion over you ; walk in newness of life. As 
you have set out in the paths of righteous- 
ness, continue your course therein. Reli- 
gion was not intended for extraordinary 
occasions. Holiness is not a robe which 
you can put off and on at pleasure. You 
must never lay aside the wedding garment. 
Transient emotions which you may now 
feel, will not change the heart. Starts and 
sallies of goodness which you may now ex- 
perience, will not form the character. The 
temper of the mind, and the tenor of the 
life are all in all. When religion and vir- 
tue have been matured by time, and grown 
into habit, then we can pronounce them to 
be sincere and genuine. Let him that is 
righteous then, be righteous still. Let him 
that is holy, be holy still. Let the spirit 
of this day accompany you all the days of 
your lives. Carry into the world, into the 
business and into the pleasures of the 
world, the purity of this ordinance, the 
dispositions you now feel, and the pur- 
poses you now form. Be faithful unto 
death, and Grod will give you the crown 
i of life. Further, As ye have gained the 



150 



SERMON XXXV. 



victory over death, through our Lord 
Jesus Christ, therefore be assured, that a 
life of faith and duty will effectually con- 
duct you to happiness. " Therefore, my 
beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, immova- 
ble, always abounding in the work of the 
Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your la- 
bor is not in vain in the Lord." Miser- 
able indeed would be the condition of the 
human kind ; feeble would be our efforts, 
and few our attainments, if after a well-or- 
dered life, we were obliged to sit down with 
the sad confession, that virtue was but an 
empty name ; that we had cleansed our 
hands in vain, and purified our hearts to 
no purpose. But, Christians, our labor 
shall not be in vain ; our works of faith 
and love, our exertions of magnanimity, 
our efforts of patience in the cause of good- 
ness ; the tender offices of humanity, char- 
ity, and pity, that we have performed, the 
kind dispositions that we have cherished 
or improved, the upright intentions which 
we have maintained, even the silent aspi- 
rations of a good heart, the warm wishes 
of the benevolent, for the happiness of the 
human kind, are now well-pleasing in the 
sight of God. We know, even from our 
own experience, that there is a reward for 
the righteous. Never have we done a good 
deed, but we have obtained the gratulations 
of our own conscience, and enjoyed the tri- 
umph of the mind. 

Let the wicked call upon the mountains 
to overwhelm, and the rocks to hide them 
in the day of the Lord. Let infidels look 
for the shades of annihilation to conceal 
them, and the curtains of the dark night 
to be drawn around them for ever. Better 
prospects are presented to us. The hope 
of immortality is set before us, and heaven 
opens its everlasting gates to receive us to 
its mansions. 

Because of this our heart is glad, and 
our glory rejoiceth. The Everlasting 
Father will not leave us in the grave, nor 
suffer his holy ones to see corruption. 
He hath shewed us the path of life. In 
his presence there is fulness of joy, and at 
his right hand there are pleasures for ever- 
more. Know then thyself, 0 man ! Make 
thyself acquainted with thy future state. 
Enter early, my brethren, upon your eter- 
nal life ; and now think, and act, and live, 
as the heirs of immortality. Implore the 



Divine goodness to give you the spirit of 
that better country to which you tend, and 
to bless you with a foretaste of the joys 
which are to come. And in the strength 
of Heaven, go forth from this assembly, 
immortal ; go forth into the world, the 
sons of God, the heirs of heaven, candi- 
dates for a crown of glory which fadeth 
not away. Then you will have good cause 
to remember this day, as one of the days 
of the right hand of the Most High, and 
to endless ages you will bless the time 
when you retired from the vanities of the 
world, and learned to meditate at your 
Saviour's tomb. 

Now may the God of peace, who brought 
again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that 
great Shepherd of the sheep, make you 
perfect in every good work, to do his will, 
working in you that which is well-pleasing 
in his sight, through Jesus Christ ; to 
whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen. 



SERMON XXXV. 

ON A LIFE OF PROGRESSIVE VIRTUE. 

Proverbs iv. 18. — " The path of the just is as the 
shining light, that shineth more and more unto 
the perfect day." 

Human life has been often compared to a 
journey, for this as well as for other rea- 
sons, that we are always making progress 
in our way. In whatever path we set out, 
there is no standing still. Evil men wax 
worse and worse : the corruptions of their 
nature gather strength : the vices which 
they have contracted grow into habit ; the 
evil principle is for ever on the increase, 
till having attained the ascendent over the 
whole man, it subjects him entirely to its 
own power, the willing and obedient ser- 
vant of sin. Good men, on the other hand, 
make advances in the paths of righteous- 
ness. The grace of God, which is given 
unto them, lies not dormant. The better 
mind with which they are endowed, incites 
them to virtue; the new nature which 
they have put' on, pants after perfection. 
They give all diligence to add to their 
faith virtue, and to virtue temperance, and 
to temperance brotherly-kindness, and to 



ON A LIFE OF PROGRESSIVE VIRTUE. 



151 



brotherly -kindness charity; until, having 
abounded in every good work, they perfect 
holiness in the fear of the Lord. Such 
a life is here called the path of the just. 
By the just in Scripture, are not meant 
those who merely abstain from doing un- 
just and injurious things to their neigh- 
bors. The just man is he who possesses 
that sincerity of heart, and that integrity 
of the whole life, which God requires of 
man. 

The life of such a man is here compared 
to the light of the morning. Nothing in 
nature is more lovely than the light. 
When the Spirit began to move upon the 
face of the deep, light was the first effect 
of his creating power ; and when the six 
days' work was finished, light, collected 
and centred in the sun, continued to be 
the grandest and most beautiful work of 
nature ; so grand and beautiful, that 
among many of the heathen nations it -was 
worshipped as the visible divinity of the 
world. What light is to the face of ex- 
ternal nature, the beauty of holiness is to 
the soul. It is the brighest ornament of 
an immortal spirit ; it throws a glory over 
all the faculties of man ; and forms that 
robe of beauty with which -they shine, who 
walk in white before the throne of God. 

But it is chiefly on account of its pro- 
gressive nature, that the path of the just 
is here compared to the shining light. 
In order to illustrate this, I shall, in the 
first place, show you how we shall know 
if we have made progress in the paths of 
righteousness. Secondly, give you some 
directions how to make farther progress. 
Thirdly, exhort you to a life of progres- 
sive virtue. 

I am first, then, to show how we shall 
know if we have made progress in the 
paths of righteousness. 

In the first place, Let me ask you, are 
you sensible of your faults and imperfec- 
tions ? The first indication of wisdom is 
to confess our ignorance, and the first step 
to virtue is to be sensible of our own im- 
perfections. The novice in science is 
puffed up with his early discoveries ; when 
the first ray of wisdom is let in upon his 
mind, he thinks that by it he can see and 
know all things ; deeper views and maturer 
reflection convince him how little he knows. 
In like manner, he knows little of religion, 



and has been but a short time in the 
school of Christ, who is blind to his own 
imperfections. Our fall from innocence 
was by pride, and we must rise by humil- 
ity. <! He that humbleth himself shall be 
exalted," is the doctrine which our Lord 
delivered upon all occasions. Till we feel 
our own weakness, we can never be strong 
in the Lord; we never can rise in the 
Divine sight, till we sink in our own esti- 
mation. We often meet with persons in 
life, who talk very strangely upon this 
subject. They tell us that they are as 
good as ever they expect to be ; that in 
looking back upon their past life, they see 
nothing done which they would wish un- 
done ; and that if they were to begin life 
anew, they would act precisely as they 
have acted. Concerning such persons, we 
may safely pronounce that they have made 
but little progress in the path of the just. 
They are strangers to their own hearts, 
and have not proper -ideas of the Divine 
law. They measure the law of God by 
the laws of men, and think that if their 
external conduct is blameless, they have 
acted their part well ; not considering that 
the law of God extends to the heart, and 
punishes for the omission of duty as well 
as for the commission of sin. Such errors 
the Pharisees taught of old ; and such no- 
tions of duty Paul had imbibed before his 
conversion to Christianity. " After the 
straitest sect of our religion," says he, 
" I lived a Pharisee ; touching the law, 
blameless. I was alive without the law 
once : " That is, when I did not know the 
law in its true sense, I thought myself 
alive and a saint. The Pharisaical doc- 
trines in which he had been educated, 
taught him that God required no more 
than a conformity of the external behavior 
to the letter of the law. But when he 
discovered that the Divine law extended 
to the heart, when thus in its power, the 
commandment came, " sin revived and I 
died ; " then I saw myself to be a sinner, 
and died to the self-conceit which I for- 
merly entertained. 

Secondly, Let me ask you what is the 
strength of your attachment to the cause 
of righteousness ? As you are sensible of 
your faults, and have seen the deformity 
of sin, are you enamored with the beauty 
of holiness ? Do you desire nothing more 



152 



SERMON" XXXV. 



earnestly than to put on tne graces of the 
Gospel, and be conformed to the image of 
God ? Men will never imitate what they 
do not love ; if then you are not lovers of 
goodness and virtue, you never will be 
good and virtuous. So long as they keep 
to generals, men may easily deceive them- 
selves. Let us then come to particulars, 
and let me ask you with what regard and 
estimation you view those patterns of piety 
which you see exhibited in life. Are the 
good and righteous, to you the excellent 
ones of the earth ? The wise do not pro- 
portion their respect to men according to 
the rank they hold, or the name they bear 
in the world. It is the character of the 
just man, as drawn in Scripture, that he 
scorneth the vile, however exalted, and 
honoreth them that fear the Lord, how- 
ever depressed. Do you then scorn the 
vile man, with all his attributes of rank 
and wealth and power 1 Do you despise 
the rich, the noble, the right honorable 
villain, and choose for your companion the 
righteous man, although he has not where 
to lay his head ? Could you sit down with 
virtue in her cell, contented with her 
homely fare, with her poor abode, and 
look down with a generous contempt upon 
the splendid roof, where luxury and guilt 
lead on the festive hours ? When you be- 
hold the wicked great in power, and 
flourishing like a green bay-tree, does your 
heart revolt from giving him that homage 
which the favors of Mammon never fail to 
extort from the venal multitude ; and can 
you say, in the sincerity of your heart, 
" I would not exchange the peace of my 
own mind for the wealth of the world ? 
Whatever thou art pleased to give, Father 
Almighty, may I possess it with honor : 
The world approaches to thine altar, and 
bends before thy throne for temporal 
blessings ; the prayer of my heart is, 
Lord, lift up on me the light of thy 
countenance.'' 1 

Thirdly, Let me ask you, are your re- 
solutions as firm, and your application as 
vigorous now, as when you first set out in 
the spiritual life ? There are times in 
which all men are serious, — in which the 
most obdurate minds feel impressions of 
religion, and in which persons of the most 
abandoned character form resolutions of 
amendment. With all the zeal of new 



converts, they set about a thorough re- 
formation. They wonder how they have 
been so long blind to their true interest ; 
they mourn over the time that they have 
lost in vain, or in sinful pursuits, and now 
seem fully determined to follow religion 
as the one thing needful. With many, 
this course continues not long ; the first 
new object engages their attention, and 
turns them aside from the path of the 
just. But true religion, my friends, does 
not consist in such fits and starts of devo- 
tion ; in random resolutions, made in the 
fervor of zeal ; in the wavering, desultory, 
and inconsistent conduct which marks the 
character of multitudes in the world. He 
alone is a good man who perseveres in 
goodness. When the vernal year begins, 
and the shower of summer descends, all 
nature bursts into vegetable life; the 
noxious weeds rival the trees among 
which they grow; but these sudden 
growths as suddenly disappear ; while 
favored by the influences of heaven, the 
trees arise to their full stature, and bring 
forth their fruit in season. Are you then 
as much in earnest now, as when your first 
love to God began to bring forth the 
fruits of righteousness ? Without this 
undiminished ardor, without these unre- 
mitting efforts, you never will run the 
race set before you, so as to finish your 
course with joy. At the same time, I 
must take notice, that as you advance in 
years, all the passions will gradually cool. 
When, therefore, the fervor of youth has 
subsided, and mature age hath given a so- 
ber cast to the temper, you will not feel 
that degree of ardor in your devotions 
which you experienced in your early 
years. Many serious persons have been 
alarmed at this appearance, not consider- 
ing that it was the effect of their constitu- 
tion, and not a mark of apostasy from 
God. But your devotion will continue as 
sincere, though not so inflamed, as before, 
and religion will be as effectual as ever in 
the regulation of your life ; like a mighty 
river, before it terminates its course in 
the ocean, it rolls with greater calmness, 
but at the same time with a greater 
strength, than when it arose from its 
source. 

Fourthly, Another mark of increasing 
grace is, when you obey the Divine com- 



ON A LIFE OF PROGRESSIVE VIRTUE. 



153 



mandments from affection and love. They 
who, from the fear of hell, put on a form 
of religion for a time, find it to be a hard 
and a painful service. They are out of 
their place, when they strike into the path 
of the just; they consider religion as a 
heavy burden, which they would not bear 
but from necessity, and look upon the du- 
ties of the Christian life, as so many tasks 
which they have to perform. Whoever 
entertains such notions of religion, will 
not rise to high attainments in righteous- 
ness. The passions and affections are the 
powerful springs of action in the soul ; 
and unless these are put in motion, the 
machine will move heavily along. He 
alone will make progress in the path of 
the just, who is drawn by the cords of 
love. Pleasant are the labors of love; 
and sweet is the precept when the duty 
pleases. The yoke is easy, and the bur- 
den light, when the heart goes along. 
The Christian is jaot a slave who obeys 
from compulsion, or a servant who works 
for hire ; he is a son who acts from filial 
affection, and is happiest when he obeys. 
The love of Christ alone constraineth 
him. The beauty of holiness allureth 
him : though rewards and punishments 
were set aside, he would follow religion 
and virtue for their own sake, and do his 
duty, because therein he found his happi- 
ness. Do you then, my friends, feel this 
affection, this passion for righteousness ? 
Can you say with the Psalmist, " How do I 
love thy laws, 0 Lord ? They are my 
meditation all the day. More to be de- 
sired they are than gold, than much fine 
gold ; sweeter than honey from the honey- 
comb." 

I now come to the second, thing pro- 
posed, to give you some directions how to 
make further progress in the path of the 
just. 

In the first place, then, in order to this, 
make a serious business of a holy life. 
There are many persons in the world who 
give a sanction to piety by their example, 
but who feel very little of its power. 
They think religion an exceedingly decent 
thing ; they see it patronized by all wise 
men, and they know it to be necessary for 
the purposes of society. For these reasons 
they follow the faith, and conform to the 
usages of their fathers : they pay a proper 



respect to the institutions of the Church ; 
and they attend upon the ordinances of 
Divine worship with all the marks of ex- 
ternal reverence. So far their conduct is 
not only decent, but laudable. But if 
they go no farther than this; if they con- 
fine their sanctity to these walls ; if they 
think that they have done their duty, 
when they have complied with the external 
ceremonies of the Church, and have 
adopted this as the easiest and most com- 
pendious method of being religious ; the 
religion of such persons is rather a kind 
of good manners than real devotion. The 
true "Christian will not be deficient in his 
attention to the externals of religion ; 
but he will not rest there ; he will attend 
upon the ordinances of public worship, not 
because it is the custom of the country, 
but because it is his duty to God ; and he 
will observe the institutions of Christiani- 
ty, not from complaisance to established 
usages, but from a sincere desire of 
making progress in righteousness. We 
must make piety more than a matter of 
form ; we must make a study of a holy 
life, in order to advance from strength to 
strength, in the ways of the Lord : it is 
with religion, my friends, as with the 
other pursuits of life. In those arts 
where success depends upon genius and 
industry, unless a man have an enthusiasm 
for his own profession, unless he follow it 
from choice, and prefer it to all others, 
he will never rise to eminence and fame. 
In like manner, unless a man have an at- 
tachment of the heart to the cause of vir- 
tue ; unless he be fervent in spirit to serve 
the Lord; unless he prefer a good con- 
science to everything upon earth, he will 
never obtain that crown of glory which is 
reserved for the righteous. In his journey 
through life the pilgrim may turn aside 
to behold a beautiful scene, or enjoy a 
passing delight ; but he will never forget 
that his chief object is his journey to the 
promised land. 

In order to attain eminence in the arts 
just mentioned, the candidate devotes his 
best and happiest years ; lives laborious 
days and restless nights ; makes a sacrifice 
of ease, and health, and social joy ; and 
at last consoles himself by the triumphant 
prospect of lying down upon the bed of 
fame, and living to future ages. If, then, 



SERMON XXXV. 



154 

studies of inferior importance become such 
a serious concern ; if the desire of an 
imaginary immortality has such power 
over the mind ; will this noblest of studies, 
the science of being good, have no attrac- 
tions for the soul ? Will this passion for 
a real immortality have no power over the 
heart ? Under the influence of this prin- 
ciple, will not every one who has the faith 
of a Christian, or the feelings of a man, 
join with the apostle, ££ Yea, doubtless, I 
count all things but loss, for the excellency 
of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my 
Lord, — that I may know him, and the 
power of his resurrection and the fellow- 
ship of his sufferings, beiug made conform- 
able to his death, if b} r any means I may 
attain to the resurrection of the dead." 
Under the influence of these principles, 
will not every person who desires to make 
advances in the path of the just, adopt 
also the resolution of Job, " While my 
breath is in me, and the Spirit of Grod is 
in my nostrils, my lips shall not speak 
wickedness, nor my tongue utter deceit ; 
till I die I will not remove mine integrity 
from me : my righteousness I hold fast, 
and will not let it go ; my heart shall not 
reproach me so long as I live." 

In the second place, in order to make 
progress in the path of the just, you must 
never rest satisfied with any degrees of 
holiness or virtue which you attain. The 
law of the spiritual life is to aim at per- 
fection : the intention of Christianity is 
that we may stand perfect and complete 
in all the will of God. " As he who hath 
called you is holy, be ye holy in all man- 
ner of conversation." Absolutely perfect, 
indeed, we can never become in this life ; 
but we must be always aspiring and en- 
deavoring after perfection. There is no 
end of your journey till you come to hea- 
ven ; there is no place by the way where 
you are to expect a termination from 
labor, or a period of repose. It is not 
uncommon to hear persons express them- 
selves in terms of great indifference about 
the higher attainments in sanctity and 
virtue. They seem to be much afraid of 
being better than their neighbors; they 
have no ambition, they say, to be saints ; 
they do not desire to rank among the very 
best ; and they would be content with the 
lowest place in heaven. Happy, beyond 



all controversy, shall he be, who shall ob- 
tain a place, though the lowest, in the 
heavenly mansions; but for men to mark 
out to themselves boundaries in the path 
of virtue, beyond which they are resolved 
not to go ; for men, with impious pre- 
sumption, to cut out to themselves just 
such a portion of duty as they think will 
entitle them to an inestimable reward ; 
this is undervaluing the pearl of great 
price ; it is sacrificing the riches of the 
Divine goodness to their own indolence ; 
it is doing despite to that Spirit of grace 
which might have been a powerful princi- 
ple of advancing holiness in the heart. 
Had he to whom in the parable ten talents 
were given, gained no more than he to 
whom five were given, can you think that 
he would have obtained the title, and re- 
ceived the reward of a good and faithful 
servant ? No, but of a slothful and un- 
profitable one, who had not improved 
aright the deposit of hj^ Master. What 
saith the apostle upon this subject? 
" Brethren, I count not myself to have 
apprehended ; " to have already attained 
perfection ; " but this one thing I do ; 
forgetting the things which are behind, 
and reaching forth unto those things 
which are before, I press toward the 
mark, for the prize of the high calling of 
God in Christ Jesus." 

" Forgetting the things that are behind," 
saith the apostle. What things had this 
apostle to forget ? He had to forget his 
labors in the course of his apostolical 
functions, his unwearied zeal, his unremit- 
ting industry in discharging the trust 
committed to him; his perilous journeys 
and voyages over the greatest part of the 
known world, to propagate the religion of 
Jesus; the many noted persons he con- 
verted by his ministry ; the many flourish- 
ing churches he erected in the course of 
his travels ; the many famous nations he 
brought over to the Christian Faith ; — he 
had to forget what of all things the best 
men pride themselves most in, the perse- 
cutions which he suffered for the sake of 
the Lord ; the imprisonments which he 
endured, the wounds which he received, 
and the stripes which he bore as a witness 
of truth, and a preacher of righteousness; 
— he had to forget that he was not behind 
the very chiefest apostles : the many mira- 



ON A LIFE OF PROGRESSIVE VIRTUE. 



155 



cles which he -wrought ; the frequent revela- 
tions that were made to him ; — he had to 
forget that, in the vision of God, he had 
ascended into the third heaven, and was 
admitted to scenes, the beauties and the 
joys of which, eye hath not seen, ear hath 
not heard, and the heart of man cannot 
conceive. If, notwithstanding such a 
high degree of grace and favor ; if, after 
a life of such extraordinary piety, this 
apostle forgot the things which were be- 
hind, and reaching forth to the things 
which were before, pressed toward the 
mark, for the prize of the high calling of 
God in Christ Jesus ; where is the man 
who can pretend to say, " I am already as 
perfect as I can ever expect to be?" 
Where is the man who is entitled to set 
a boundary to himself in the path of 
righteousness, saying, " Hitherto shall I 
go, but no further?" 

In the third place, in order to make 
progress in the path of the just, be always 
employed in the improvement of your 
souls. There is no standing still in the 
path of heaven. Your evil habits, those 
cords that hold you in captivity to sin, 
you may not perhaps be able to cast away 
at once ; but through the Divine grace, 
you will insensibly weaken, and at last 
break them asunder. Your inclinations 
that may have taken a wrong bent, you 
may counteract, and at last recover to 
their original rectitude. Where nature 
favors a particular exertion, or habit has 
formed you to a particular virtue, the one 
you may cherish, the other you may culti- 
vate ; upon both the fruits of righteous- 
ness will .grow. Afterwards, be still at- 
tending to the culture of the soul, and 
meditating improvements, by /Calling forth 
graces that have not yet made their appear- 
ance, and bringing forward to perfection 
those that have. Thus will your minds 
resemble those trees, in which, at one and 
the same time, we behold some fruits 
arrived at full maturity ; some half advan- 
ced and others just formed in the opening 
blossom. By cultivating these graces in 
the soul, you will not only have an earnest, 
but also an image of heaven. The trees 
which thus grow up by the rivers of 
water, which bring forth their fruit in 
their season, and whose leaves continue 
ever green, shall be transplanted to hap- 



pier climes, to adorn the paradise of 
God. 

In the fourth and last place, in order 
to make your endeavors effectual, you 
must abound in prayer to God for the as- 
sistance of his Holy Spirit. " No man 
becomes good without the Divine influence. 
No man can rise above the infirmities of 
nature unless aided by God. He inspires 
great and noble purposes. In every good 
man God resides. The strength which 
renders a man superior to all those things 
which the people either hope or dread, 
descends from him. So lofty a structure 
cannot stand unsupported by the Divinity." 
These, my friends, are the words of a 
heathen, and express a doctrine equally 
agreeable to reason and to revelation. In 
consequence of our corrupted nature, we 
are unable of ourselves to produce the 
virtues and graces of the Divine life. 
But we are not left without a remedy. 
In the gospel of Jesus Christ, aids are 
promised from above, to repair the ruins 
of our nature, and to restore the powers 
of the soul : Gocl hath not forsaken the 
earth : as at the first of days, the Divine 
Spirit is still moving over the world to 
produce life. The Lord is ever nigh to 
them who call upon him in the sincerity 
of their heart. While we strive against 
sin, we may safely expect that the Divinity 
will strive with us, and impart that 
strength and power which will at last 
make us more than conquerors. As he 
who continues in wicked devices shall be 
sure to find Satan standing at his right 
hand, so he who begins a good life, shall 
find Grod befriending him wrth secret aid. 
He will assist the spirit that is struggling 
to break loose from the bonds of its cap- 
tivity ; he will aid the flight of the soul 
that is taking wing to the celestial man- 
sions ; he will support our feeble frame 
under the trials and conflicts to which we 
are appointed, and lead us on from grace 
to grace, till we appear in Zion above. 
" They that wait upon the Lord shall re- 
new their strength; they shall mount up 
as on eagle's wings : they shall run and 
not be weary; they shall walk and not 
be faint." 

I come now to the last thing proposed, 
to exhort you to a life of progressive virtue. 
In the first place, then, it is your duty 



156 



SERMON XXXV. 



to make progress in the ways of righteous- 
ness. In your sanctification, you are ena- 
bled more and more to die unto sin and 
live unto righteousness. It is not enough 
that you continue steadfast and immov- 
able ; you must also abound in the work 
of the Lord, if you expect your labors to 
be attended with success. It is not suf- 
ficient that you continue in well-doing ; 
you must also grow in grace, and increase 
with all the increase of God. This pro- 
gressive nature of righteousness is implied 
in all the figures and images by which a 
good life is represented in Sacred Scrip- 
ture. It is compared to the least of all 
seeds, which waxes to a great tree, and 
spreads out its branches, and fills the 
earth. It is compared to the morning 
light, at first faintly dawning over the 
mountains, by degrees enlightening the 
face of the earth, ascending higher and 
higher in the heavens, and shining more 
and more unto the perfect day. We are 
said to be here at the school of Christ ; 
and in order to attain the character of 
good disciples, we must not only retain 
what we have acquired, but also add to 
the acquisitions we have made. The 
Christian life is represented as a warfare, 
and in this warfare we shall never gain 
the victory, unless we not only maintain 
the ground we have got, but also gain 
upon the foe. It is represented as a race 
set before us, and in running it we must 
continually press forward, or we shall 
never gain the prize. Every degree of 
grace which you receive, and every pitch 
of virtue to which you attain, is a talent 
for which you' are accountable ; a talent, 
which if you only retain, but not improve, 
you will receive the doom of a slothful 
and wicked servant, and be cast into 
outer darkness. The Christian life is a 
life of continued exertion. At every 
stage in our pilgrimage on earth, new 
scenes will open ; new situations will pre- 
sent themselves ; and new paths to glory 
will be struck out. The sphere of action 
varies continually. We have, one while, 
to support adversity; another while, to 
adorn prosperity; sometimes to approve 
ourselves to God in solitude ; at other 
times, to cause our light to shine before 
men in society. Different situations in 
the world, and different periods of life, 



require the exercise of different virtues. 
What is accepted from the young soldier 
will not be excused in the veteran ; what 
is an "ornament of grace" to the youth- 
ful brow, will not be a " crown of glory" 
to the hoary head. 

Secondly, Let me exhort you to this 
life of progressive virtue, from the pleasing 
consideration that you will be successful 
in the attempt. In the pursuit of human 
honors and rewards, the successful candi- 
dates are few. In a race many run, but 
one only gains the prize. But here all 
who run may obtain. In the career of 
human glory, time and chance happen 
unto all, and many are disappointed. " The 
race is not always to the swift, nor the 
battle to the strong; nor riches. to men of 
understanding ; nor favor to men of skill." 
There is a concurrence of circumstances 
required to raise a man to reputation; 
and when these circumstances concur, if 
the moment of opportunity be not em- 
braced, the field of glory may be lost for 
ever. In human life there is a favorable 
hour which never returns, and a call to 
fame which is repeated no more : even 
in its best estate, men ought to lay their 
account with disappointment and vexation. 
What thou hast set thy heart upon from 
thy youth ; what has been the aim of all 
thy labors; what has been the object of 
thy whole life, accident, artifice, ignorance, 
villany, caprice, may give to another whom 
thou knowest not. When thy ambition is all 
on fire ; in the utmost ardor of expecta- 
tion, in the very moment when thou 
stretchest out thy hand to grasp the prize, 
fortune may snatch it from thy reach for 
ever. Nay, thou mayest have the mortifi- 
cation to see others rise upon thy ruins, 
to see thyself made a step to the ambition 
of thy rival, and thy endeavors rendered 
the means of advancing him to the top of 
the wheel, while thou continues^ low. 

In the pursuits of ambition or avarice, 
you may be disappointed ; but if by a pro- 
gressive state of righteousness, you seek 
for glory and honor and immortality, I in 
the name of God assure you of success. 
Never was the gate of mercy shut against 
the true penitent ; never was the prayer 
of the faithful rejected in the temple of 
heaven; never did the incense of a good 
life ascend without acceptance on high. 



ON A LIFE OF PROGRESSIVE VIRTUE. 



157 



Liberal and unrestricted is the Divine 
benignity : free to all the fountain flows. 
There is no angel with a flaming sword to 
keep you from the tree of life. At this 
moment of time, there is a voice from 
Heaven calling to you, " Come up hither." 
And if you are obedient to the call, Grod 
assists you with the aid of his Spirit ; he 
lifts up the hands that hang down ; he 
strengthens the feeble knees, and perfects 
his strength in your weakness. You are 
not left alone to climb the arduous ascent. 
God is with you, who never suffers the 
spirit which rests on him to fail ; nor the 
man who seeks his favor, to seek it in vain. 
Your success in the path of the just will 
not only be pleasing to yourselves, but also 
to all around you. In the struggles of human 
ambition, the triumph of one arises upon 
the sorrows of another ; many are disap- 
pointed when one obtains the prize. But 
in the path of the just, there is emulation 
without envy, triumph without disappoint- 
ment. The success of one increases the 
•happiness of all. The influence of such 
an event is not confined to the earth : it is 
communicated to all good beings : it adds 
to the harmony of the Heavens ; and is 
the occasion of new hosannas among the 
innumerable company of angels and spirits 
of just men made perfect, who rejoice over 
the sinner that repenteth. 

Thirdly, Let me exhort you to make 
advances in the path of righteousness, from 
the beauty and the pleasantness of such a 
progress. Whatever difficulties may have 
attended your first entrance upon the path 
of the just, they will vanish by degrees ; 
the steepness of the mountain will lessen 
as you ascend; the path, in which you 
have been accustomed to walk, will grow 
more and more beautiful ; and the celestial 
mansions, to which you tend, will brighten 
with new splendor, the nearer that you ap- 
proach them. In other affairs, continued 
exertion may occasion lassitude and fa- 
tigue. Labor may be carried to such an 
excess as to debilitate the body. The 
pursuits of knowledge may be carried 
so far as to impair the mind ; but neither 
the organs of the body, nor the faculties 
of the soul, can be endangered by the prac- 
tice of religion. On the contrary, this 
practice strengthens the powers of action. 
Adding virtue to virtue is adding strength 



to strength ; and the greater acquisitions 
we make, we are enabled to make still 
greater.' How pleasant will it be to mark 
the soul thus moving forward in the bright- 
ness of its course ! In the spring, who 
does not love to mark the progress of na- 
ture ; the flower unfolding into beauty, 
the fruit coming forward to maturity, the 
fields advancing to the pride of harvest, 
and the months revolving into the perfect 
year ? Who does not love in the human 
species, to observe the progress to maturi- 
ty ; the infant by degrees growing up to 
man ; the young idea beginning to shoot, 
and the embryo character beginning to un- 
fold ? But if these things affect us with 
delight : if the prospect of external nature 
in its progress, if the flower unfolding un- 
to beauty, if the fruit coming forward to 
maturity, if the infant by degrees growing 
up to man, and the embryo character be- 
ginning to unfold, affect us with pleasurable 
sensations, how much greater delight will 
it afford to observe the progress of this 
new creation, the growth of the soul in the 
graces of the divine life, good resolutions ri- 
pening into good actions, good actions lead- 
ing to confirmed habits of virtue, and the 
new nature advancing from the first linea- 
ments of virtue to the full beauties of ho- 
liness ! These are pictures that time will 
not take away. While the animal spirits 
fail, and the joys which depend upon the 
liveliness of the passions decline with 
years, the solid comforts of a holy life, the 
delights of virtue and a good conscience, 
will be a new source of happiness in old 
age, and have a charm for the end of life. 
As the stream flows pleasantest when it 
approaches the ocean ; as the flowers send 
up their sweetest odors at the close of the 
day ; as the sun appears with greatest 
beauty in his going down ; so at the end 
of his career, the virtues and graces of a 
good man's life come before him with the 
most blessed remembrance, and impart a 
joy which he never felt before. Over all 
the moments of life, religion scatters her 
favors, but reserves her best, her choicest, 
her divinest blessings for the last hour. 

In the last place, Let me exhort you to 
this progressive state of virtue, from the 
pleasant consideration that it has no pe- 
riod. There are limits and boundaries 
set to all human affairs. There is an ul- 



158 



SERMON XXXVI. 



timate point in the progress, beyond 
which they never go, and from which they 
return in a contrary direction. The flower 
blossoms but to fade, and all terrestrial 
glory shines to disappear. Human life 
has its decline as well as its maturity ; 
from a certain period the external senses 
begin to decay, and the faculties of the 
mind to be impaired, till dust returns 
unto dust. Nations have their day. 
States and kingdoms are mortal like their 
founders. When they have arived at the 
zenith of their glory, from that moment 
they begin to decline ; the bright day is 
succeeded by a long night of darkness, ig- 
norance, and barbarity. But in the pro- 
gress of the mind to intellectual and 
moral perfection, there is no period set. 
Beyond these heavens the perfection and 
happiness of the just is carrying on ; is 
carrying on, but shall never come to a 
close. God shall behold his creation for 
ever beautifying in his eyes; for ever 
drawing nearer to himself, yet still infi- 
nitely distant from the fountain of all 
goodness. There is not in religion a 
more joyful and triumphant consideration 
than this perpetual progress which the 
soul makes to the perfection of its nature, 
without ever arriving at its ultimate pe- 
riod. Here truth has the advantage of 
fable. No fiction, however bold, presents 
to us a conception so elevating and astoj^ 
ishing, as this interminable line of heaven- 
ly excellence. To look upon the glorified 
spirit as going on from strength to strength ; 
adding virtue to virtue, and knowledge to 
knowledge; making approaches to good- 
ness which is infinite ; for ever adorning 
the Heavens with new beauties, and bright- 
ening in the splendors of moral glory 
through all the ages of eternity, — has 
something in it so transcendent and inef- 
fable, as to satisfy the most unbounded 
ambition of an immortal spirit. Christian ! 
does not thy heart glow at the thought, 
that there is a time marked out in the an- 
nals of Heaven, when thou shalt be what 
the angels now are ; when thou shalt shine 
with that glory in which principalities 
and powers now appear; and when, in the 
full communion of the Most High, thou 
shalt see him as he is ? 

The oak, whose top ascends into the 
heavens, and which covers the mountains 



with its shade, was once an acorn, con- 
temptible to the sight; the philosopher, 
whose views extend from one end of na- 
ture to the other, was once a speechless 
infant hanging at the breast ; the glorified 
spirits who now stand nearest to the 
throne of God, were once like you. To 
you, as to them, the Heavens are open ; 
the way is marked out; the reward is 
prepared. On what you do, on what you 
now do, all depends. 



SERMON XXXVI. 

ON REPENTANCE. 

Acts xvii. BO. — " And the times of this ignorance 
God winked at; but now cornmandeth all 
men everywhere to repent." 

This is part of a sermon which the apostle 
Paul delivered at Athens. The Athenians 
were the most ingenious and most illus- 
trious people of Greece. Situated in a 
happy climate, and blessed with the high- 
est degree of liberty which mankind can 
enjoy, they bent their genius to the culti- 
vation of the sciences and arts. These 
they carried to such a pitch of perfection, 
as gained the palm from the contending 
world, and has attracted the eyes and ad- 
miration of all succeeding ages. But to 
show the darkness and the ignorance of 
the human mind when not enlightened by 
the wisdom which cometh from above, as 
soon as they turned themselves to religion, 
they displayed nothing but their own ab- 
surdities and follies. In place of a ration- 
al and liberal form of religion, a gross 
and stupid idolatry universally prevailed ; 
in place of the true God, they bowed the 
knee to a dumb idol ; and instead of the 
worship of the heart, consecrated to his 
service impure and profane observances. 
Zealous to destroy this fabric of super- 
stition, the apostle Paul, rising in the 
midst of an assembly that was convened 
on the hill of Mars, reproved those masters 
of science, those lights of the Heathen 
world, with the boldness and the majesty 
of an apostle of the Lord. " Ye men of 
Athens, I perceive that in all things ye 
are too superstitious ; — the times of this 



ON REPENTANCE. 



159 



ignorance God winked at ; but now com- 
mandeth all men everywhere to repent." 

Repentance towards God is the great 
and leading duty enjoined both in the 
Old and in the New Testament. Along 
with every revelation of the Divine will, 
along with every new commission to pro- 
phets and holy men to preach this Divine 
will, the duty of repentance is alway incul- 
cated in the strongest terms. The Patri- 
arch Noah preached repentance to the 
world hofore the flood. John the Baptist 
began his public ministry by preaching 
the doctrine of repentance. " Except ye 
repent, ye shall perish," was the awful de- 
nunciation of our Lord. And his apos- 
tles constantly began or ended their 
sermons with exhortations to this duty. 
This message, so often delivered to the 
world, I now address to you ; and demand 
your serious attention to this most impor- 
tant subject. And, in further treating 
upon it, I shall, in the first place, Explain 
to you the nature of repentance ; and 
secondly, Lay before you the motives 
which ought to influence your minds to 
the practice of this duty. 

The first thing proposed, was, To ex- 
plain the nature of true repentance. 

Repentance unto life, as it is well de- 
fined in that excellent summary of theol- 
ogy, the Shorter Catechism, is " a saving- 
grace, whereby a sinner, out of a true sense 
of his sin, and apprehension of the mercy 
of God in Christ, doth, with grief and ha- 
tred of his sin, turn from it unto God, 
with full purpose of, and endeavor after, 
new obedience." According to this defi- 
nition, repentance includes, first, A true 
sense of sin ; secondly, Grief and hatred 
of sin ; thirdly, Apprehension of the mercy 
of God in Christ, the forsaking of sin, and 
endeavoring after new obedience. 

First, A true sense of sin. This must 
be the ground-work of all the rest, because 
it is impossible to hate what we do not 
feel. It is impossible to conceive a hatred 
and aversion against a thing of which we 
are not sensible, or to flee from a danger 
of which we have no apprehension. Where 
there is no sense of sin, therefore, there 
can be no repentance. Accordingly the 
Pharisee, who trusted in himself that he 
was righteous, was too proud, even when 
he was praying to God, to confess any 



guilt of his own. ££ God, I thank thee," 
says he, " that I am not as other men 
are." He was conscious, it seems, of no 
sin, though inwardly full of rottenness and 
hypocrisy. Such insensibility is a certain 
sign of a hardened and impenitent heart, 
and can proceed from nothing but a gross 
and conceited ignorance, a wretched incon- 
sideration, or a long continuance in sin, v 
that has rendered the conscience callous 
and past feeling. This first step of repent- 
ance supposes the sinner, in the first place, 
to be feelingly affected with a sense of his 
sins ; to have his mind enlightened and 
his conscience awakened by the word of 
God ; to be convinced from thence of the 
irregularity of his ways, and their contra- 
riety to the holiness of the Divine nature ; 
to labor under the load of his guilt ; and 
in the consciousness of his own ill deserv- 
ing, to be ready to sink under the number 
and the weight of his transgressions. 
Such were the sentiments of David's heart, 
and such the confession of his tongue. 
" I acknowledge my transgressions ; my 
sin is ever before me ; mine iniquities are 
gone over my head ; as a burden they are 
too heavy for me." This sense of sin is 
often accompanied 'with the emotions of 
fear. For when the sinner, already con- 
victed in his own conscience, begins to re- 
flect upon his past life, and at the same 
time to look up to God whom he has of- 
fended, and forwards to eternity, upon the 
brink of which he daily stands shivering ; 
what a spectacle of terror must this be to 
a man who has been long spiritually blind, 
and whose eyes are but just opened to see 
this startling scene ! And behold, behind 
him a formidable troop of sins ; sins red 
as crimson, and numberless as the sand 
upon the seashore ! Above a holy and a 
just God, the Judge of the world, armed 
with the thunders of his wrath Before 
him the infernal world disclosing all its 
horrors, and ready to swallow him up in 
perdition ! Doubtless the terrors of the 
Lord, when thus set in array against a 
self-condemned sinner, will fill him with 
fear and dismay, especially when he con- 
siders that God is greater than his heart, 
and knoweth all things. 

The second step of repentance, is being 
affected with a grief and hatred of sin. 
The former was a selfish feeling ; this is 



160 SERMON 

a generous passion. The former respects 
sin as ruinous to the sinner ; this regards 
it as offensive to God. When the penitent 
is already affected with a deep sense of 
the danger of his sin, how will it wound 
his mind, and pierce him to the heart, to 
consider that he has not only been long an 
enemy to himself, but also an enemy to 
God ; to consider that he has trespassed 
so far upon infinite goodness ; that he has 
dallied so long with infinite justice ; that 
he has misspent the precious talents com- 
mitted to him of Heaven ; that he has 
abused the faculties of his immortal soul ; 
that he has been defacing the image of 
God his maker; and that with his own 
hands he has been excluding himself from 
happiness, from heaven, and from the 
presence of the Lord. These, and such 
alarming thoughts, pierce to the dividing 
asunder of soul and spirit ; enough to con- 
strain the sorrowful penitent to lift up his 
eyes in the midst of his torment, and to cry 
out with Job in the bitterness of his soul, 
" I have sinned, and what shall I answer 
to thee^ 0 thou Preserver of men? Alas ! 
the arrows of the Almighty are within 
me ! the poison of them drinketh up my 
spirit. But what grieves me most is, that 
I have offended thee, the Author of my 
life, and the Preserver of my being ; that 
I have sinned against so much goodness, 
and provoked such tender mercy. Mine 
iniquities deserve thy wrath and vengeance. 
But thy goodness reacheth from heaven to 
earth. Thy mercy, like thyself, is infinite. 
Let this remorse which I now feel, be the 
only punishment of my sin; and let me 
not be finally delivered over to the tormen- 
tors. This I request and pray on account 
of the merit of my Redeemer. His right- 
eousness is all-sufficient and meritorious. 
By it may I obtain favor and acceptance 
with thee, and be translated from the king- 
dom of darkness into the kingdom of God." 

The third step in repentance towards 
God, is an apprehension of the mercy of 
Gcd in Christ, and a forsaking of sin. 
This is properly an act of faith. Faith and 
repentance are twin graces of the soul, 
and can never be separated. True repent- 
ance includes faith, and true faith includes 
repentance. The mercy of God through, 
a Redeemer being proclaimed in the Gos- 
pel, and a new and living way to the ho- 



XXXVI. 

liest of all being set open by the blood of 
Jesus, the true penitent flies for refuge to 
the hope set before him, and lays hold on 
eternal life. He forsakes his sins, and 
walks in newness of life. He' begins with 
alacrity to run the race set before him. 
and feels, to his blessed experience, that 
the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasant- 
ness, and that her paths are peace. This 
is the crowning act of true repentance, 
and the test of its sincerity. That is not 
true repentance, when the sinner, after 
feeling some compunctions of mind, some 
touches of remorse, forms a few feeble 
resolutions, which he breaks at the first 
approach of temptation. He is not a true 
penitent, who, after mourning over his old 
sins, begins a new course of wickedness. 
This is only changing one sin for another. 
A man who has spent his youth in profile 
sion and extravagance, may devote his 
riper years to avarice and the cares of the 
world. Such a person is indeed a different 
man, but he is not a penitent. In like 
manner, a person who has been at the head 
of the follies and the vices of the world, 
who has taken the lead in all fashionable 
and crinimal gratifications, may grow tired 
of such a course of life, as human nature 
will tire of every thing: Such a person 
may take a fit of devotion, and rush into 
a variety of gloomy superstitions and se- 
verities ; but this is not true repentance. 
This is only passing from one < error to 
another. This is only giving a different 
direction to your passions. Repentance 
must effect a thorough change, or it is no 
repentance at all. Neither is he a true 
penitent who, after being affected with re- 
morse for sin, falls into the same course 
again ; who is always sinning and always 
repenting ; and who goes on in a sad cir- 
cle of making resolutions, and breaking 
them as soon, as they are made. True re- 
pentance is repentance from dead works 
to serve the living God. It consists in 
confessing and forsaking our sins. It con- 
sists in denying ungodliness and worldly 
lusts, and abounding in the fruits of right- 
eousness unto eternal life. 

I do not mean by this, that any man in 
this life is altogether free from sin. Im- 
perfections cleave to the best. Who 
can say that he has made his hands 
clean, or his heart pure ? Good men 



ON" REPENTANCE. 



161 



oftentimes may be off their guard ; they 
may be surprised in the hour of temp- 
tation, and be overtaken in a fault ; but 
they -will never sin upon a plan ; they will 
never make a system of iniquity; they 
will not deliberately concert plots of wick- 
edness upon their beds, and rise up to exe- 
cute with warmth what they have contriv- 
ed with coolness. The grace of God does 
not act by fits and starts ; is not a transient 
but an abiding principle. The Christian 
is fixed and immoveable, and abounding 
in the work of the Lord. He is not of 
those apostates, mentioned by the apostle 
Jude, who resemble the morning clouds, 
that are ever varying their form, and are 
carried about with every wind : who 
resemble wandering stars, to whom is 
reserved the blackness of darkness for 
ever. But he advances from strength 
to strength : his path is like the light of 
the morning, which shineth more and 
more unto the perfect day. 

There is one other part of repentance 
which I have not yet mentioned, and 
which merits your serious attention ; that 
is, making restitution and reparation, as far 
as lies in your power, for the evils you 
have done. "If I have wronged any 
man," said Zaccheus when he repented, 
" lo I restore him fourfold." Have you 
wronged any man in his property ? Have 
you taken away his goods 1 Make resti- 
tution. Have you wronged any man in 
his reputation ? Have you taken away 
his good name ? Make reparation : con- 
fess that you were a defamer : confess that 
you were a liar. Have you offended and 
injured any one ? Ask his forgiveness. 
Let no false shame hinder you from doing 
your duty. You have good cause to be 
ashamed. Be always ashamed to offend ; 
but never blush for your returning virtue. 
Let no false shame, therefore, no foolish 
obstinacy, no pride of heart, prevent you 
from a thorough reformation. Better be 
exposed to shame here, than be doomed 
hereafter to everlasting pains. 

The second thing proposed, was, To lay 
before you the motives to repentance. 

And, in the first place, The superior 
light and information derived to the world 
by the Christian religion, concerning the 
rule of righteousness according to which 
we ought to conduct our lives, suggests a 
11 



strong motive and inducement to repent- 
ance. God indeed never left himself with- 
out a witness in the world. He made the 
firmament bright with his glory, and com- 
manded the heavens with all their host to 
declare his handiwork. With his own 
finger he inscribed the laws of justice and 
of virtue upon th$ heart of man. Atten- 
tive to this voice of God within, and assist- 
ed by those impressions of Divinity with- 
out, the moral teachers among the Gen- 
tiles struck out many useful discoveries, 
and taught many valuable lessons of wis- 
dom to the world. They wandered not in 
the dark concerning the essentials of nat- 
ural religion. They were not ignorant 
of the chief duties of life. The invisible 
things of God, even his eternal power and 
Godhead, they discovered by the works 
of creation • and having the law of nature 
written in their hearts, they were a law 
unto themselves. But the defect which 
they labored under, was the want of au- 
thority to enforce the discoveries which 
they made, and the want of a proper sanc- 
tion to the rules of life which they estab- 
lished. When keen and violent, the 
passions of men push them forward ; they 
will not be restrained by the voice of rea- 
son and philosophy. On these occasions., 
men will reply to such an instructor, 
" Who gave thee a commission to teach 
and reform the world ? Did the voice of 
heaven come to thine ears ? Who invest- 
ed thee vith authority and dominion over 
the mind ? Who appointed thee instruc- 
tor of the nations, and legislator of the 
moral world ? " The heathen teachers 
could pretend to no such authority. But 
Jesus of Nazareth was invested with a 
divine commission. He descended from 
heaven to teach the will of God upon 
earth. He performed miracles in confir- 
mation of his religion. He set the seal 
of heaven to the doctrines which he taught, 
and guarded the laws which he establish- 
ed with the sanction of rewards and pun- 
ishments. Such was the difference be- 
twixt a human teacher and a prophet of 
the Lord ; and such ought to be the differ- 
ence betwixt the lives of heathens and the 
conduct of Christians. What signifies 
the superior excellency of your religion, 
unless its superiority appear in your life ? 
What avails the light to you, if ye con- 



162 



SERMON XXXVT. 



tinue to walk in darkness ? Unless ye re- 
pent, it had been better for you that the 
kingdom of God had never come amongst 
you. If ye still walk in the region and 
shadow of death, it had been better that 
the Pay-spring from on high had never 
risen over your benighted land. The 
heathens shall rise up in judgment against 
you, and shall condemn you. It shall be 
more tolerable in the day of judgment for 
the inhabitants of "Sodom and G-omorrah, 
those cities of sin, those monuments of the 
vengeance of God to all succeeding times; 
it shall be more tolerable for these, than 
for those wicked Christians, who have dis- 
regarded the voice which spoke from hea- 
ven ; who have profaned that blessed name 
by which they were called ; and who, by 
their obstinacy and impenitence, have 
counted the blood of the covenant where- 
with they were sanctified an unholy thing. 

A second motive and encouragement to 
repentance, is the hope and prospect of 
success. Before the introduction of 
Christianity, when the world lay in dark- 
ness as well as in wickedness, a sense of 
guilt burdening the conscience, and a dread 
of future punishment as consequent upon 
that guilt, drove the nations to a variety 
of expedients, in order to avert the ven- 
geance of Heaven, and make an atonement 
for their sins. Hence various rites and 
ceremonies were • instituted. Hence so 
many sacrifices were offered up, and so 
much blood was shed. Reason indeed 
could have told them that these means 
were unavailable", that the blood of bulls 
and of goats, and the ashes of a heifer, 
could never take away sin. But reason 
could not assure them that any other 
means, that even their repentance, would 
be effectual to that end. Here Revelation 
steps in to our aid. The Gospel assures 
us, that the wrath of God is not only 
averted from men, that he is not only re- 
conciled, but also that he is a God in 
Christ reconciling the world unto himself. 
The gate of mercy is set open by the 
blood of Jesus ; and an inheritance that 
is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth 
not away, is- promised to all those who sin- 
cerely repent of their sins, to all who be- 
lieve and obey the Gospel. He that con- 
fesseth and returneth shall find mercy. 
The -sacrifices of God are a broken heart 



and a contrite spirit ; a broken and a con- 
trite heart the Lord will not despise. 
" Thus saith the high and lofty One that 
inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy, 
I dwell in the high and holy place ; with 
him also that is of an humble and a contrite 
spirit, and who trembleth at my word." 
Seeing then that the favor of God, and all 
the blessings of the new covenant, are 
promised to true repentance, will you by 
your impenitence and unbelief cut your- 
selves off from these blessings ? When 
such strong consolation is offered, will you 
not fly for refuge to the hope set before 
you ? When heaven is opened for your 
reception, will you refuse to enter in? 
When the fruits of the tree of life are pre- 
sented to you, will you not put forth your 
hand, and take and eat, and live for ever ? 

A third motive to repentance is the as- 
sistance of the Spirit, which the Gospel 
offers. Christianity is called the ministra- 
tion of the Spirit. The effusion of the 
Holy Ghost on the day of Pentecost upon 
the apostles, which enabled them to speak 
all languages, and to work miracles, was 
extraordinary, and intended to cease with 
that age. But the heavenly Comforter 
still abides with all the disciples of Christ, 
to guide them into all truth, and incline 
them to the practice of every duty. The 
prophet Zechariah, foretelling the glory 
of the latter days, or times of the Messiah, 
says, " It shall come to pass in those days, 
that I will pour out upon the house of 
David, and upon the inhabitants of J eru- 
salem, the Spirit of grace and of supplica- 
tion, and they shall look upon me whom 
they have pierced, and they shall mourn 
and be in bitterness." The Spirit of grace 
and of supplication, then, poured out 
abundantly, shall impress men with sorrow 
and contrition for their sins ; shall incline 
them to renounce their former sinful ways, 
to repent of their past transgressions, and 
to walk in newness of life. This operation 
of the Divine Spirit upon the mind, does 
not impel men to action by mechanical in- 
fluence, and obstruct the exercise of their 
natural powers. The grace of God does 
not turn a man into a machine. It draws 
him, as the Scripture happily expresses it, 
with the cords of love, and with the bands 
of a man. It acts in such a manner as is 
adapted to the powers of a rational being, 



ON" REPENTANCE. 



163 



and to the liberty of a free agent. When 
such gracious aids are offered to us, when 
the Spirit of God strives in order to re-" 
claim and reform us, it must be a high ag- 
gravation of our wickedness to resist his 
operations, and by our hardness and im- 
penitence of heart, to treasure up wrath 
against the day of wrath, and revelation 
of the righteous judgment of God. What 
more could the good husbandman have 
done to his vineyard tljan he has done ? 
He calls upon you to repentance by the 
voice of nature ; he calls you by the voice 
of reason ; he calls you by the voice of 
providence; he calls you by the voice 
which spake from heaven. He sends down 
his Holy Spirit to second these Divine 
calls, to help your infirmities, to enlighten 
your darkness, to strengthen your feeble 
powers, and to work in you both to will 
and to do that which is his good pleasure. 
Not only does he prepare the crowrr of 
glory, but he also assists you to fight the 
good fight, and to finish your course, that 
you may obtain that crown. Not only 
does he open the heavens to receive you, 
but he also stretches out his hands to con- 
duct you thither. And if, after all, you 
resist his Holy Spirit ; if you counterwork 
his saving plan ; if you defeat the efforts 
of mercy, the labors of Heaven used for 
your recovery, your guilt is upon your own 
head, your ruin is owing to yourselves, 
with your own hand you push yourselves 
over the brink into the pit of utter perdition. 

In the fourth place, as an inducement 
to repentance, consider the cross of Christ, 
who suffered the punishment due to our 
sins. How great must be the evil of sin, 
and how strong the obligation for us to re- 
pent of our sins, when such a sacrifice was 
required in order to expiate our guilt, and 
atone the wrath of Heaven ! Burnt offer- 
ings, thousands of rams, and ten thousands 
of rivers of oil, the first-born offered up 
for the transgression, the fruit of the body 
for the sin. of the soul, could not suffice. 
The Lamb of God could alone take away 
the sin of the world. Look then on him 
whom thou hast pierced, and mourn. 
Every groan that he utters, every tear 
that he sheds, every drop of blood that he 
pours, calls thee to repentance. View him 
stretched out on the cross, groaning under 
the pains of death, inclining his blessed 



head, and addressing his last words to you, 
" Sinners, behold your Saviour ! behold 
him who was persecuted by Satan and by 
wicked men ; behold him who was forsaken 
by God ; behold this head which was 
crowned with thorns ; behold these hands 
which were nailed to the tree ; behold 
this side which was wounded with the 
spear; behold the blood that flows from 
every part; sinner, it was shed for you." 
Canst thou, 0 man ! behold that scene 
without emotion ? Canst thou continue 
impenitent in the practice of those sins, 
which brought thy Saviour to that painful 
and ignominious death ? 

Lastly, It is another motive to repent- 
ance, that God "has appointed a day in 
the which he will judge the world," as is 
mentioned in the verse following; the text. 

o 

That the soul of man survives the body, 
that there is a state of rewards and punish- 
ments beyond the grave, has been the 
general belief among all nations. Testi- 
monies of this truth everywhere abound. 
Whether we turn to the east or to the 
west ; whether we consult the history of 
ancient or of modern times ; whether we 
listen to the accounts of the old world or 
of the new, we are presented with proofs 
and evidences of this important doctrine. 
How this opinion came to be so general, 
as to form an article in the popular creed 
of all nations, is a question of some diffi- 
culty. To those who have no guide but 
the light of nature, and who have no su- 
pernatural aids to assist the efforts of their 
own understanding, the arguments on both 
sides seem to be so equally balanced, that 
upon principles of reasoning, it is almost 
impossible to come to any determination. 
But, in all inquiries concerning human 
nature, we ought to attend to the heart 
more than to the understanding. Man is 
oftener guided by sentiment and feeling 
than by abstract reasoning. Almighty G6d 
hath endowed us with a sense of moral 
good and evil. He hath placed within us 
a principle of conscience, which passeth 
judgment upon human actions, approving 
the good, and condemning the bad. This 
tells us, that in the Divine administration 
it ought to be well with the righteous, and 
ill with the wicked. In confirmation of 
this, we see that, by the original appoint- 
ment of Heaven, and in the daily course 



164 



SERMON XXXYI. 



of Providence, there is no peace to the 
wicked, and that they have great peace, 
who love the law of the Lord. At the 
same time, we frequently observe in the 
course of human affairs, that the lot of the 
wicked falls to the righteous. We see 
many instances in life of good men de- 
pressed, and bad men exalted ; of vice 
holding a sceptre, and virtue pining in 
chains. How often have we seen the best 
of men reduced to eat the bread of sorrow, 
and to drink the waters of affliction, whilst 
the worthless and the infamous have 
rioted in the abundance of life, and enjoy- 
ed what their hearts could wish ! When 
such scenes are presented to our eyes, our 
heart rises within us. Shall it always con- 
tinue thus, we say within ourselves, shall 
it always continue thus in a world that is 
governed by God ? Shall oppressed right- 
eousness never be taken into the protec- 
tion of Providence, and triumphant wicked- 
ness never fall under his censure ? Shall 
the cry of the innocent, of the oppressed, 
and of the persecuted, never reach the 
throne of justice ? Are the wrongs and 
grievances of the good and the righteous, 
never to be redressed? Is wickedness 
finally to triumph over oppressed virtue ; 
to triumph over the laws of nature; 
to triumph over the providence of Hea- 
ven ? Will the time never come when the 
Almighty shall rise from his throne to ad- 
just and rectify the affairs of the moral 
world 1 If not in this, certainly in some 
future state, he will assume the part of a 
Judge, to reward the just, and to take 
vengeance upon the wicked. 

All this has at last been fully revealed. 
It was reserved to the Divine Prophet, 
who came from the bosom of the Father 
to bring life and immortality to light by 
his Gospel. He taught that God had ap- 
pointed a day in which he was to judge the 
world ; that the dead were to be raised, 
and all that ever lived upon the earth to 
appear at his tribunal. Of this doctrine 
he gave assurance unto all men by his 
own resurrection from the dead; and as 
surely as he arose, shall we at the time 
appointed arise. When the mystery of 
God is finished, the last trumpet will 
sound. The voice of the Son of God will 
pierce the caverns of the tomb, will be 
heard over the kingdoms of the dead. 



will reanimate the ashes of thousands of 
generations, and sist an assembled world 
at the seat of judgment. By the unalter- 
able appointment of Heaven, every thing 
has its period. The cedar of Lebanon 
fades away like the leaf upon its top. 
Lebanon itself decays in the course of 
years. States .and empires have their day, 
like mortal man. Limits are set to time, 
and the world has its last hour. A few 
generations more having passed away, the 
day comes which God hath appointed to 
judge the world ; the great day for which 
all other days have revolved. When this 
period approaches, heaven opens wide its 
everlasting doors, and behold the Judge 
comes forth ! He comes in the glory of 
his Father ; in the effulgence of unveiled 
Divinity he comes, attended with all the 
host of heaven ! Before him the harbin- 
ger of his appearance, the destroying an- 
gel of nature, descends, clothed with a 
cloud, having his face like the sun, and 
his feet like pillars of fire. He sets his 
right foot upon the sea, and his left foot 
upon the earth ; he lifts up his hand to hea- 
ven, and swears " by him that liveth for 
ever and ever, that time shall be no more !" 
As the doom of nature is denounced, the 
thunders of heaven for the last time utter 
their voices : the laws of nature are dis- 
solved ; the stars fall from the firmament ; 
the moon is turned into blood ; and that 
sun, whose beams you now behold, sinks in 
the darkness of eternal night ; the earth 
hears its last sentence, and shakes to the 
centre ; the four corners of the world hear 
it ; all that are alive hear it ; all the dead 
hear it, and live; from the presence of 
their Creator, the heavens depart like a 
scroll rolling itself together; the earth 
vanishes, and there is no place found for 
it ; every mountain and every island is 
fled ; creation fades away, to give place to 
uncreated glory ; the great tribunal is 
erected; the books are opened; the Judge 
descends ; the world is assembled ; the 
sentence is pronounced ; the sentence is 
executed : down to the prison of darkness 
and despair, the habitation of unquench- 
able and everlasting fire, the wicked are 
driven, where, bound in chains, they feel 
the torment of the worm that never dies, 
and suffer in the flames of the lake whose 
smoke ascendeth up for ever and ever; 



ON REPENTANCE. 



165 



whilst, enthroned in glory above, and 
adorned with the beauties of immortality, 
the righteous ascend with their Lord, and 
approaching to the fountain of life, par- 
take of those pleasures at the right hand 
of God, which shall occupy and animate 
the praises of eternit}'. 

Let me now ask you, my brethren, do 
you believe what you have now heard ? 
Do you believe that there is a judgment 
to come, and that each of you shall bear a 
part in that tremendous scene ? I appeal to 
a witness that cannot lie. I appeal to your 
own conduct. Do you live and act in such 
a manner as becomes those who have one 
day to answer for their lives and their ac- 
tions ? Is your conversation in heaven, 
from whence you look for the Saviour and 
the Judge? Are your loins girt about, 
your lamps burning, and you yourselves 
like unto men who wait for the coming of 
their Lord ? Were the general judgment 
to begin, were these heavens to open, and 
the sign of the Son of Man to appear over- 
head, could you face his tribunal? Could 
you lift up your heads with confidence and 
joy amidst the ruins of nature, and the 
crash of a dissolving world ? If not, I call 
upon you to repent, and to reform your 
lives. You are still under the administra- 
tion of grace, and have the hope of glory 
set before you. Heaven and immortality 
are in your offer. God graciously calls 
you to repentance and newness of life. 
The Spirit helps your infirmities, and 
strives to conquer the stubbornness of your 
spirits. But he will not always thus wait 
to be gracious. Your day of grace does 



not last for ever. If mercy reclaims you 
not, you are delivered over to the hand of 
justice. If you reject the golden sceptre 
when it is held out to you, a rod of iron 
succeeds, to destroy the children of dis- 
obedience. Repent you must, in one form 
or other. If your sins affect you not with 
sorrow and contrition here, they will fill 
you with unavailable remorse and despair 
hereafter. You must either be affected 
with the kindly emotions of that repent- 
ance which is unto life, or be tormented 
with the stings of the worm that never 
dies. 

Knowing these terrors, we endeavor to 
persuade men. Happy for men, if they 
would endeavor to be persuaded ! If these 
things, my brethren, which you have been 
now hearing, be true ; if it be true that we 
shall be raised up at the last day ; that 
the day of judgment shall as surely arise 
as this morning arose, in obedience to laws 
which can no more fail to bring it forth 
than the sun could this morning refuse to 
arise at the command of its Creator ; if it 
be true that all of us who are here assem- 
bled shall be assembled again around the 
judgment-seat of God; if it be true that 
this is our only state of probation, and that 
life and death are now in our choice, that 
heaven and hell are now set before us ; if 
these things be true, (and true they are, 
otherwise this book is a collection of fa- 
bles,) if these things be true, — then, 0 my 
brethren, what manner of persons ought 
we to be ! — then, 0 my God, what manner 
of persons ought we to be ! 



166 



SERMON XXXVII. 



SERMON XXXYII. 

ON THE VIRTUE OF MEEKNESS. 

Matthew v. 5. — " Blessed are the meek, for they 
shall inherit the earth." 

They mistake the nature of the Christian 
religion very much, who consider it as sep- 
arate and detached from the commerce of 
the world. Instead of forming a distinct 
profession, it is intimately connected with 
life ; it respects men as acting in society, 
and contains regulations for their conduct 
and behavior in such a state. It' takes 
in the whole of human life, and is 
intended to influence us when we are in 
the house, and in the field, as well as 
when we are in the church or in the clo- 
set. It instructs men in their duty to 
their neighbors, as well as in their duty to 
God : It is our companion in the scene 
of business as well as in the House of 
Prayer ; and while it inculcates the weight- 
ier matters of the law, faith, judgment, 
and mercy, it neglects not the ornament 
of a meek and quiet spirit, which in the 
sight of God is of great price. All that 
refinement which polishes the mind ; all 
that gentleness of manners which sweetens 
the intercourse of human society, which 
political philosophers consider as the ef- 
fects of wise legislation and good govern- 
ment ; all the virtues of domestic life, are 
lessons which are taught in the Christian 
school. The wisdom that cometh from 
above is " gentle." The fruit of the Spir- 
it is "meekness." As the sun, although 
he regulates the seasons, leads on the 
year, and dispenses light and life to all the 
planetary worlds, yet disdains not to raise 
and to beautify the flower which opens in 
his beam : so the Christian religion, though 
chiefly intended to teach us the knowledge 
of salvation, and be our guide to happiness 
on high, yet also regulates our conversa- 
tion in the world, extends its benign in- 
fluence to the circle of society, and diffu- 
ses its blessed fruits in the path of domes- 
tic life. 

In farther treating upon this subject, I 
shall, in the first place, describe to you the 
character of meekness which is here recom- 
mended ; and, in the second place, show 



you the happiness with which it is attend- 
ed. — I am, in the first place, then, to de- 
scribe to you the character of meekness 
which is here recommended. 

Every virtue, whether of natural or re- 
vealed religion, is situated between some 
vices or defects, which, though essentially 
different, yet bear some resemblance to the 
virtue they counterfeit ; on account of which 
resemblance they obtain its name, and im- 
pose upon those who labor under the 
want of discernment. This meekness 
which is here recommended, is not at all 
the same with the courtesy of manners 
which is learned in the school of the world. 
That is but a superficial accomplishment, 
and often proceeds from a hollowness of 
heart. It is also quite different from con- 
stitutional facility, that undeciding state 
of the mind which easily bends to every 
proposal ; that is a weakness, and not a vir- 
tue. Neither does it at all resemble that 
tame and passive temper which patiently 
bears insults and submits to injuries ; that 
is a want of spirit, and argues a cowardly 
mind. This meekness is a Christian grace 
wrought in us by the Holy Spirit : it is a 
stream from the fountain of all excellence. 
A good temper, a good education, and just 
views of religion, must concur in forming 
this blessed state of the mind. It becomes 
a principle which influences the whole life. 
Though consistent in all its operations 
with boldness and with spirit, yet its chief 
characteristics are goodness, and gentle- 
ness, and long suffering. It looks with 
candor upon all ; often condescends to the 
prejudices of the weak, and often forgives 
the error of the foolish. 

But to give you a more particular view 
of it, we may place it in three capital 
lights, as it respects our general behavior, 
our conduct to our enemies, and our con- 
duct to our friends. 

With respect to his general behavior, 
the meek man looks upon all his neigh- 
bors with a candid eye. The two great 
maxims on which he proceeds, are, not to 
give offence, and not to take offence. He 
enters not with the keenness of passion 
into the contentions of violent men ; he 
keeps aloof from the contagion of party 
madness, and feels not the little passions 
which agitate little minds. He wishes, 
and he studies, to allay the angry passions 



•ON THE VIRTUE OF MEEKNESS. 



167 



of the contending ; to moderate the fierce- 
ness of the implacable ; to reconcile his 
neighbors to one another ; and, as far as 
lies in his power, to make all mankind one 
great family of friends. He will not in- 
deed descend one step from the dignity of 
his character ; nor will he sacrifice the dic- 
tates of his own conscience to any consid- 
eration whatever. But those points of 
obstinacy, which the world arc apt to call 
points of honor, he will freely and cheer- 
fully give up for the good of society. He 
loves to live in peace with all mankind ; 
but this desire too has its limits. He 
will keep no terms with those who keep no 
terms with virtue. A villain, of whatever 
station, of whatever religious profession, 
he detests as abomination. Thus you see, 
that though softness, and gentleness, and 
forbearance, and long-suffering, are the 
chief characteristics of this virtue, yet at 
the same time it is very consistent with.ex- 
ertions of spirit. When it acts, it acts 
with vigor and decision. Moses, who has 
the testimony of the Divine Spirit, that he 
was the meekest man upon the face of the 
earth, yet when occasion presented itself, 
felt the influence of an elevated temper, 
and slew the Egyptian who was wounding 
his countryman. A meeker than Moses, 
even our Lord himself, though gentle and 
beneficent to all the sons of men, yet 
when the worldly-minded Jews profaned 
the Temple, he was moved with just indig- 
nation, and drove the impious from the 
House of Grod. Nothing is often more calm 
and serene than the face of the heavens ; 
but when guilt provokes the vengeance of 
the Most High, forth comes the thunder 
to blast the devoted head. 

Such is the influence of meekness on 
our general behavior. It ought also to 
regulate our conduct to our enemies. 
There is no principle which more strongly 
operates in human nature than the law of 
retaliation. This appears from the laws 
of all nations in the early state, which al- 
ways ordained a punishment similar to the 
offence ; eye for eye, tooth for tooth, and 
life for life. This appears also from our 
own feelings ; when an injury is done us, 
we naturally long for revenge. Our 
heart tells us, that the person offending 
ought to suffer for the offence, and that 
the hand of him who was injured must re- 



I turn the blow. Such are the dictates of 
the natural temper. But pursue this 
principle to its full extent, and you will 
see where it will end. One man commits 
an action which is injurious to you ; you 
feel yourself aggrieved, and seek revenge. 
If you then retaliate upon him, he thinks 
he has received a new injury, which he also 
seeks to revenge ; and ' thus a foundation 
is laid for reciprocal animosities without 
end. Did this principle and this practice 
become general, the earth would be a 
field of battle, life would be a scene of 
bloodshed, and hostilities would be immor- 
tal. Legislative wisdom hath provided a 
remedy for these disorders and for this 
havoc which would be made of the human 
species. The right of private vengeance, 
which every man is born with, by common 
consent, and for the public good, is resign- 
ed into the hands of the civil magistrate. 
But there are many things which come 
not under the jurisdiction of the laws, and 
the cognziance of the magistrate, which 
tend to disturb the public peace, and set 
mankind at variance. Private animosities 
and little quarrels often rise, which might 
be productive of great disorder and detri- 
ment to society. Here, therefore, where 
legislative wisdom fails, religion steps in 
and checks the desire of vengeance, by en- 
joining that meekness of spirit which dis- 
poses not to retaliate, but to forgive. He, 
therefore, who possesses this spirit, will 
not answer a fool according to his folly. 
He will not depart from his usual maxims 
of conduct, because another has behaved 
improperly. Because his neighbor has 
been guilty of one piece of folly, he will 
not reckon that an inducement for him to 
be guilty of another. He will regulate 
his conduct by the standard of virtue 
which is within, and not by the behavior 
.of those around him. Accordingly, in- 
stead of harboring animosities against 
those who have done him ill offices, he 
will be disposed to return good for evil ; 
remembering that our Lord adds at the con- 
clusion of this chapter, " I say unto you, 
love your enemies, that ye may be the chil- 
dren of your Father which is in Heaven ; 
for he maketh the sun to rise on the evil 
and on the good, and sendeth rain on the 
just and on the unjust." 

This meekness ought also to appear in 



153 SERMON 

our conduct towards our friends. In the 
present state of things, where human na- 
ture is so frail, where the very best have 
their weak side, and where so many events 
happen, which give occasion to the pas- 
sions of men to show themselves, there is 
great scope for the exercise of meekness 
and moderation. The faults of mankind, 
in general, present a most unpleasant 
spectacle ; but the failings of those we 
love, of those on whom we have conferred 
obligations, are apt to fill us with disgust 
and aversion. If it had been an enemy 
who had done this, I could have borne it. I 
would have expected no better ; but thou, 
0 my familiar friend, how shall I for- 
give thee ? Such, at the time, is the 
language of nature. But better views, 
and more mature reflection, will teach us 
to throw a veil over those infirmities 
which are inseparable from the best na- 
tures, and to frame an excuse for those 
errors, which proceed not from a bad 
heart. 

In all these instances of meekness, J e- 
sus of Nazareth left us an example, that 
we should follow his steps. In his gener- 
al behavior, he was meek and lowly, and 
condescending. He went about doing 
good, and received testimony from his 
enemies, that " he -did all things well." 
To the errors of his friends, he was mild 
and gentle. When, moved by false zeal, 
in which they are still followed by many 
who have the assurance to call themselves 
his disciples, they besought him to cause 
fire to descend from heaven, and consume 
a city which believed not in his doctrines ; 
all the rebuke he administered was, " Ye 
know not what manner of spirit ye are of ; 
the Son of Man came not to destroy men's 
lives, but to save them." When he suffer- 
ed his agony in the garden, in the hour 
and in the power of darkness, when he be- 
sought his disciples to watch with him in 
this dreadful scene, and when, instead of 
giving him comfort, they sunk unconcern- 
ed into sleep ; instead of reproving them 
with severity, as their conduct deserved, 
he himself sought for an excuse for them : 
'• The spirit indeed is willing, but the 
flesh is weak." Though he was the friend 
of all mankind, yet he had enemies who 
sought his life. " I have done," said he, 



XXXVII. 

" many good deeds among you, for which 
of these do you stone me ? " And 
when, after persecuting him in his life, 
they brought him to the accursed death of 
the cross, his last words were, " Father 
forgive them, for they know not what they 
do." G-o thou ! and do likewise. 

The second thing proposed was, to 
show the happiness annexed to this char- 
acter, expressed here by " inheriting the 
earth." The meek are not indeed always 
to be great and opulent. Happiness, God 
be praised, is not annexed, and is not con- 
fined, to the superior stations of life. 
There is a great difference between pos- 
sessing the good things of life, and enjoying 
them. Whatever be his rank in life, the 
meek man bids the fairest chance for enjoy- 
ing its advantages. A proud and passionate 
man, puts his happiness in the power of 
every fool he meets with. A failure in 
duty or affection from a friend, want of 
respect from a dependant, and a thousand 
little circumstances, which a candid man 
would overlook, disturb his repose. He 
is perpetually on the fret, and his life is 
one scene of anxiety after another. On 
the other hand, the meek is not disturbed 
by the transactions of this scene of vanity. 
He is disposed to be pleased at all events. 
Instead of repining at the success of those 
around him, he rejoices in their prosperity, 
and is thus happy in the happiness of all 
his neighbors. Such are the blessed ef- 
fects of meekness on the character. This 
beam from heaven kindles joy within the 
mind ; it spreads a serenity over the coun- 
tenance, and diffuses a kind of sunshine 
over the whole life. It puts us out of the 
power of accidents. It keeps the world at 
a due distance. It is armor to the mind, 
and keeps off the arrows of wrath. It 
preserves a sanctuary within, calm and 
holy, which nothing can disturb. Safe 
and happy in this asylum, you smile at 
the madness of the multitude. You hear 
the tempest raging around, and spending 
its strength in vain. As this virtue con- 
tributes to our happiness here, so it is al- 
so the best preparation for the happiness 
which is above. It is the very temper of 
the heavens. It is the disposition of the 
saints in light, and angels in glory ; of 
that blessed society of friends who rejoice 



ON" THE VIRTUE OF MEEKNESS. 



169 



in the presence of God, and who, in mutu- 
al love, and joint hosannas of praise, en- 
joy the ages of eternity. 

To conclude : There is hardly a duty 
enjoined in the whole book of God, on 
which more stress seems often to be laid, 
than this virtue of meekness. 11 The 
Lord loveth the meek. — The meek will 
he beautify with his salvation. — He arises 
to save the meek of the earth." Christ 
was sent to preach " glad tidings to the 



meek." Upon this our Lord rests his 
own character : " Learn of me, for I am 
meek." In the epistles of Paul, there 
is a remarkable expression : " I beseech 
you by the meekness and the gentleness 
of Christ." The Holy Ghost, too, is call- 
ed " the Spirit of Meekness." Implore 
then, 0 Christian ! the assistance of the 
Divine Spirit, that he may endow you 
with this virtue, and that you may show 
in your life the meekness of wisdom. 



L E C T 



IRES. 



LECTURE I. 



THE CONDITION OF THE GOOD MAN AND THE 
BAD MAN DESCRIBED. 



Psalm L 

1 Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of 
the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth 
in the seat of the scornful. 

2 But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in his law 
doth he meditate day and night. 

3 And he shall he like a tree planted by the rivers of 
water, that hringeth forth his fruit in his season; his loaf 
also shall not wither, and whatsoever he doth shall prosper. 

4 The ungodly are not so : hut are like the chaff which 
the wind driveth away. 

5 Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, 
nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous. 

6 For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: but 
the way of the ungodly shall perish. 

Christians and Brethren ! The most 
critical period of human life is when we 
set out into the world. Frequently the 
first step is decisive. The young adven- 
turer, set free from the authority of pa- 
rents and of guardians, becomes his own 
master, and follows his own inclination. 
It is then that he begins to form his cha- 
racter ; and the character that is then 
formed generally lasts through life. Man- 
kind for the most part continue in the 
same path in which they set out. The 
passions of }"Outh may resign to the pas- 
sions of age, and one set of vices or of vir- 
tues give place to those of a similar kind ; 
but seldom does the formed character un- 
dergo an essential change. Our first 
steps ought therefore to be ordered with 
the greatest care and deliberation, as upon 
them, in a great measure, depends not 
only our present, but also our eternal hap- 
piness. 

It was with a design to direct us in this 
important period, that the Psalm before 
us was written ; in which the practice of 
righteousness is recommended, not only 



from the advantages attending it in this 
life, and in that which is to come, but 
likewise from the pernicious tendency of 
sin to embitter our earthly enjoyments, 
and to render us unqualified for inheriting 
the joys of heaven. The gradual deviation 
of a sinner from the onward path of vir- 
tue, till he is inextricably bewildered in 
the insidious mazes and winding ways of 
iniquity, are here most beautifully de- 
scribed. 

The first step in reality, though it be 
the second in the description, is, He stand- 
eth in the way of sinners. Frequenting 
the company of the wicked is a certain in- 
troduction to a life of wickedness. Man- 
kind are oftener led astray by the com- 
pany of the profligate than by their own 
depraved inclinations. This unhappy 
bias to associate with the profane arises 
from two causes, which operate powerfully 
on the minds of inexperienced youth. The 
first is that vigorousness and austerity 
which some gloomy-minded Christians 
attach to their religion. There are many 
persons of such an unhappy constitution, 
as to indulge themselves in perpetual mo- 
roseness and melancholy. Those sons of 
sorrow turn every house into a house of 
mourning, and behave in life as if it were 
one of their principles, that mirth was 
made for reprobates, and cheerfulness of 
heart denied to all those who have the 
best title to be cheerful. My brethren, 
there is no connection; God and nature 
have established no connection, between 
sanctity of character and severity of man- 
ners. To rejoice evermore, is not only 
the privilege, but is also the duty of a 
Christian. A cheerful temper is a perpet- 
ual hymn to the Divinity. A gloomy 
cast of mind is not only a certain source 



THE CONDITION OF THE GOOD AND THE BAD DESCRIBED. 



171 



of misery and discontent, but is really in 
itself sinful, by deterring others from a 
holy life, by representing religion in an 
unfavorable and forbidding light, as if it 
conjured up a spirit to darken the face of 
the heavens and the earth, to trouble the 
peace and the harmony of nature, and to 
banish gladness from the circle of human 
society. Very opposite is the conduct of 
the votaries of vice. To betray unwary 
innocence into their snares, they put on 
the masks of mirth ; they counterfeit glad- 
ness amidst the horrors of guilt, and bor- 
row the accents of pleasure, and the air 
of joy. " Let us crown ourselves with 
rosebuds," say they, " let us crown our- 
selves with rosebuds before they be with- 
ered, let no flower of the spring pass away, 
let us devote the present moments to joy, 
and give thought and care to the winds." 
By their flattery and fair speeches, too 
often are the innocent ensnared. T-hey 
mark the fair attire, and the smiles upon 
the cheek of the deceiver, Sensual plea- 
sure ; but they discern not, till too late, 
the pains, the diseases, and the destruc- 
tion that follows in her train. They dis- 
cern not that her steps lead down to the 
grave, and that her bower is an antecham- 
ber to hell. 

There is a second cause which has oft- 
en been known to make men associate 
with the profane, and that is, an opinion 
that wickedness, particularly some kinds 
of it, are manly and becoming ; that dis- 
soluteness, infidelity, and blasphemy, are 
indications of a sprightly and strong mind. 
By the most unhappy of all associations, 
they join together the ideas of religion 
and dulness ; and if they have a good 
opinion of a man's faith and his morals, 
they are led to have a very bad one of his 
understanding. This opinion, although it 
has gained ground where it might not 
have been expected, is without foundation 
in nature or in fact. Some instances there 
may have been of great men who have 
been irregular; but the experiences of 
ages is on the other side. Those who 
have shone in all ages as the lights of the 
world; the most celebrated names that 
are recorded in the annals of fame ; legis- 
lators, the founders of states, and the 
fathers of their country, on whom succeed- 
ing ages have looked back with filial rev- 



erence; patriots, the guardians of the 
laws, who have stemmed the torrent of 
corruption in every age : heroes, the sa- 
viors of their country, who have returned 
victorious from the field of battle, or more 
than victorious, who have died for their 
country; philosophers, who have opened 
the book of nature, and explained the 
wonders of almighty power ; bards, who 
have sung the praises of virtue and of vir- 
tuous men, whose strains carry them 
down to immortality ; with a few excep- 
tions, have been uniformly on the side of 
goodness, and have been as distinguished 
in the temple of virtue as they were illus- 
trious in the temple of fame. It was one 
of the maxims which governed their lives, 
that there is nothing in nature which can 
compensate wickedness ; that although the 
rewards and punishments, which influence 
illiberal and ungenerous minds, were set 
aside ; that although the thunders of the 
Almighty were hushed, and the gates of 
paradise were open no more, they would 
follow religion and virtue for their own 
sake, and co-operate with eternal Provi- 
dence in perpetual endeavors to favor the 
good, to depress the bad, and to promote 
the happiness of the whole creation. 

The second stage in the perversion of a 
sinner, is walking after the counsel of the 
ungodly. It is a maxim established by 
the sad experience of ages, that evil com- 
munication corrupts good manners. The 
power of nature and of conscience, and 
the influence of a religious education, may, 
for a while, withstand the shock, but these 
gradually will be overpowered, and yield 
to the impetuosity of the torrent. Hence 
follow the painful struggles between rea- 
son and the senses, between conscience 
and inclination, which constitute a state 
of the utmost misery and torment. Such 
persons, when they are carousing in the 
gay circle of their acquaintance, when the 
blood is warm, and the spirits high, will 
th%n go all lengths with their fellow-de- 
bauchees, and give a loose to every wan- 
ton and every wicked desire. But when 
the fumes of intoxication have forsaken 
the aching head ; when the calm forenoon 
hour of reflection comes, then conscience, 
faithful to its trust, summons them to her 
awful bar, fills them with confusion and 
remorse, and condemns them to the sever- 



172 



LECTURE L 



est of all tortures, to be extended on the 
rack of reflection, to lie upon the torture 
of the mind. This is a state in which great 
part of mankind live and die. They have 
as much corruption as to lead them to the 
commission of new sins, and as much reli- 
gion as to awaken in them remorse for 
these sins. They repent of their old 
vicious pleasures, and at the same time are 
laying plans for new ones, and make their 
lives one continued course of sinning and 
repenting, of transgression and remorse. 

The third and last stage of impiety is 
sitting in the chair of the sconier, or 
laughing at all religion and virtue. This 
is a pitch of diabolical attainment, to 
which few arrive. It requires a double 
portion of the infernal spirit, and a long 
experience in the mystery of iniquity, to 
become callous to every sense of religion, 
of virtue, and of honor ; to throw off the 
authority of nature, of conscience, and of 
God; to overleap the barrier of laws di- 
vine and human; and to endeavor to 
wrest the bolt from the red right hand of 
the Omnipotent. Difficult as the achieve- 
ment is, we see it sometimes effected. 
We have seen persons who have gloried 
in their shame, and boasted of being vi- 
cious for the sake of vice. Such charac- 
ters are monsters in the moral world. Fi- 
gure to yourselves, my brethren, the an- 
guish, the horror, the misery, the damna- 
tion, such a person must endure, who must 
consider himself in a state of enmity with 
heaven and with earth ; who has no plea- 
sant reflections from the past, no peace in 
the present, no hopes from the future; 
who must consider himself as a solitary 
being in the world; who has no friends 
without to pour balm in the cup of bitter- 
ness he is doomed to drink ; who has no 
friend above to comfort him, when there 
is none to help ; and who has naught with- 
in him to compensate for the irreparable 
and irredeemable loss. Such a person is 
as miserable as he is wicked. He is in- 
sensible to every emotion of friendship ; 
he is lost to all sense of honor ; he is sear- 
ed to every feeling of virtue. 

In the class of those who sit in the chair 
of the scorner, we may include the whole 
race of infidels, who misemploy the engines 
of reason or of ridicule to overthrow the 
Christian religion. Were the dispute 



concerning a system of speculative opin- 
ions, which of themselves were of no im- 
portance to the happiness of mankind, it 
would be uncharitable to include them all 
under this censure. But on the Christian 
religion, not only the happiness but the 
virtue of mankind depends. It is an un- 
doubted fact, that religion is the strongest 
principle of virtue with all men, and with 
nine-tenths of mankind is the only prin- 
ciple of virtue. Any attempt therefore to 
destroy it, must be considered as an at- 
tempt against the happiness and against 
the virtue of the human kind. If the 
heathen philosophers did not attempt to 
subvert the false religion of their country, 
but, on the contrary, gave it the sanction 
of their example, because, bad as it was, 
it had considerable influence on the man- 
ners of the people, and was better than no 
religion at all, what shame, what contempt, 
what infamy, ought they to incur, who 
endeavor to overthrow a religion which 
contains the noblest ideas of the Deity, and 
the purest system of morals, that ever 
were taught upon earth ? He is a traitor 
to his country ; he is a traitor to the hu- 
man kind ; he is a traitor to heaven, who 
abuses the talents that Grod has given him, 
in impious attempts to wage war against 
Heaven, and to undermine that system of 
religion, which, of all things, is the best 
adapted to promote the happiness and the 
perfection of the human kind. Blessed 
then is the man who hath not brought 
himself into this sinful and miserable state, 
who hath held fast his innocence and in- 
tegrity in the midst of a degenerate 
world ; or if, in some unguarded hour, he 
hath been betrayed into an imprudent step, 
or overtaken in a fault, hath made ample 
amends for his folly by a life of penitence 
and of piety. 

Verse 2. His delight is in the law 
of the Lord. He makes religion and 
virtue the grand business of his life, and 
his business becomes his delight. He 
does not take it up occasionally, and by 
fits and starts, it is his employment day 
and night. In the morning he riseth with 
the sun, and joins with the choir of angels 
and archangels in celebrating the great 
Creator. He looks around him with a 
pious pleasure on the living landscape 
which the hand of the Almighty hath 



THE CONDITION OF THE GOOD AND THE BAD DESCRIBED. 



173 



drawn for his delight, and he adores that 
benevolent power who makes all nature 
beauty to his eye, and music to his ear ; 
but he has a fairer prospect within, than 
nature can furnish without, and the still 
small voice of conscience whispers peace to 
his heart in sweeter strains than all the 
music of the morning, which hails him on 
every side. With a cheerful and a grate- 
ful heart, he contemplates the wonders of 
creating bounty, he recollects the instances 
of preserving goodness, and he traces the 
annals of redeeming love. He looks 
through the veil of created things, and 
raises his thoughts from this world to that 
state of happiness and immortality which 
is reserved for the spirits of just men 
made perfect. His religion does not con- 
sist in contemplation alone. He goeth 
about doing good. He instructs the igno- 
rant in the light that leads to heaven ; he 
pours the balm of consolation into -the 
wounded mind; and he wipes the tears 
from the cheeks of the distressed. He 
distinguishes every day with some good, 
some memorable deed ; and he retires to 
rest with that inward, serene, and heart- 
felt joy, that sober certainty of bliss, 
which is only to be found in a life of holi- 
ness and piety. 

Verse 3. And he shall be like a tree 
planted by the rivers of water, that bring- 
eth forth his fruit in his season ; his leaf 
also shall not wither, and whatsoever he 
doth shall prosper. A tree planted by 
the rivers of water, is a beautiful object in 
all nations ; but to the Jews, who lived in 
a hot country, and were scorched with the 
heat of the sun, it was an object both of 
signal beauty and of signal utility, by 
affording them a shadow from the heat. 
Hence, when they describe mankind in 
their happiest state, they represent them 
as sitting under their vines and their fig- 
trees. This allusion expresseth well the 
flourishing state of the righteous man. 
Planted in the garden of his Grod, and 
watered with the dew of heaven, his leaf 
is ever green, and he brings forth the 
fruits of righteousness in due season. His 
goodness is liberal and unconfined and his 
beneficence is shared promiscuously by 
friends and foes. He is clothed with right- 
eousness, and his judgment is a robe and 
a diadem. The ear that hears him blesseth, 



and the eye that sees him gives witness to 
him, because he delivereth the poor, the 
fatherless, and them that have none to 
help. He is eyes to the blind. He is 
feet to the lame. The loins of the naked 
bless him. The blessing of him that is 
ready to perish comes upon him, and he 
causes the widow's heart to sing for joy. 

All he doth shall prosper well. Among 
the Jews, to whom this Psalm was address- 
ed, this held invariably true. There was 
a particular dispensation of providence ex- 
ercised towards that people, distributing 
temporal rewards to righteousness, and 
temporal punishments to sin. In the or- 
dinary course of providence now, this does 
not always hold. Success and disappoint- 
ment are administered variously to the 
sons of men. But still, in all his endea- 
vors, the good man bids the fairest for 
success. While he acts in character, he 
will attempt nothing but what is just and 
honorable in itself, or beneficial to the in- 
terests of society ; he will always have the 
good wishes of mankind on his side. And 
although he should sometimes be disappoint- 
ed, the consciousness of his good intentions 
will keep his mind, at ease, and his faith in 
the good providence of his heavenly Father 
will fill him with a contentment and peace 
of mind, that is a stranger to the breast 
of the wicked man, even when he obtains 
his wishes. 

Verse 4. The ungodly are not so : 
But are like the chaff which the wind 
driveth away. The Psalmist hits upon 
the distinguishing feature in the character 
of a wicked man. He never acts upon a 
plan. He lives and acts at random. He 
has no rule for his life but the veerings of 
passion. Present gratification being his 
only object, different and contrary passions 
solicit him at the same time. One appe- 
tite saith unto him, Go, and he goeth, 
another says, Come, and he cometh. 
The slave of sense, and the sport of pas- 
sion, he is driven to and fro like the chaff 
before the whirlwind, and his life is one 
continued scene of levity, inconsistency 
and folly. 

Verses 5. and 6. Therefore the ungod- 
ly shall not stand in the judgment, nor 
sinners in the congregation of the right- 
eous. — For the Lord knoweth the ivay of 
the righteous : But the way of the ungod- 



174 



LECTURE II 



ly shall perish. The miseries which the 
wicked endure here, are but the beginning 
of their sorrows. That God, whose grace 
they abused, whose mercy they underva- 
lued, and whose power they despised, is 
now their awful and inexorable Judge. 
The wicked have no cause to complain of 
the sentence that is passed upon them. 
They have brought it upon their own 
heads. They have been the instruments 
of their own ruin. They have brought 
themselves into a situation in which it is 
impossible for them to be happy. Let us 
suppose them to be admitted into the 
company of the blessed, their situation 
would be still deplorable. They would 
pine in the mansions of bliss, and search 
for heaven in the midst of paradise. We 
may venture to say, that it is even im- 
possible for Omnipotence to make a wick- 
ed man fyappy ; it implies an express con- 
tradiction. They have put themselves 
out of the reach of divine mercy, and be- 
come what the Scripture most emphati- 
cally calls, " Vessels of wrath fitted for 
destruction." " Therefore they shall not 
stand in the judgment." The poor and 
distressed whom they refused to relieve, 
the widow and the fatherless whom they 
oppressed, the innocent whom they injured, 
the unhappy wretches whom, by their ar- 
tifices, they betrayed into the paths of de- 
struction, shall rise up and witness against 
them. Their own hearts will condemn 
them. The final sentence is pronounced, 
they are driven from the presence of the 
Lord, they are cast into outer darkness, 
where the worm dieth not, where the fire 
is never quenched, and it had been happy 
for them that they had never been born. 

I shall conclude with one reflection. 
You see, my brethren, from what has been 
said, that a life of wickedness is gradual 
and progressive. One criminal indulgence 
lays the foundation for another, till, by 
degrees, the whole superstructure of ini- 
quity is complete. When the sinner has 
once put forth his hand to the forbidden 
fruit, and thinks that he can taste and 
live, he returns with greater and greater 
avidity to repeat his crimes, till the poison 
spreads through all his veins, and all the 
balm of Grilead be ineffectual for his cure. 
Fly therefore, I call upon you in the 
name of Heaven, fly, from the approach- 



ing foe. Gruard your innocence as you 
would guard your life. If you advance 
one step over the verge of virtue, unless 
the grace of heaven interpose, down you 
sink to the bottomless abyss. Come not 
then near the territories of danger. Stand 
back. One sin indulged, gathers strength 
and abounds ; it increases, it multiplies, 
it familiarizes itself with our frame, and 
-introduces its whole brood of infernal in- 
mates, worse than pestilence, famine, or 
sword. 



LECTURE II. 



ON THE DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE. 



Psalji XXIV. 1—7. 

1 The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof; tho 
world and they that dwell therein. 

2 For he hath founded it upon the soas, and established 
it upon the floods. 

. 3 Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? and who 
shall stand in his holy place ? 

4 He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart ; who hath 
not lift up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully. 

5 He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and right- 
eousness from the G-od of his salvation. 

6 This is the generation of them that seek him, that seek 
thy face, 0 Jacob. Selah. 

7 Lift up your heads, 0 ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye 
everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in. 

This Psalm was composed when David 
removed the ark of the covenant from the 
house of Obededom to Jerusalem. But 
though it was composed for that occasion, 
it is evident, from the latter part of it, 
that it was ultimately intended for that 
more illustrious event, when Solomon 
transferred the ark from the tabernacle in- 
to the temple which he had built. As 
David was not only the poet, but also the 
Prophet of G-od, he foresaw the future 
events of the Church, by the inspiration of 
the Divine Spirit ; and by the same inspi- 
ration, he composed songs and pieces of 
music adapted to these events. These he 
committed to Asaph, Hemon, and Jedu- 
thun, the prefects of sacred poetry, to be 
sung as opportunities required. 

The occasion of this psalm is one of the 
grandest and most illustrious that any 
where occurs in history. Solomon, by the 
divine direction, had now finished the 
temple, that superb monument of oriental 
magnificence and glory, which drew the 
princes of neighboring nations to come 



ON THE DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE. 



175 



and contemplate. The feast of taber- 
nacles, the most solemn and most frequent- 
ed of the Jewish festivals, was now at 
hand. All the tribes of Israel, from Dan 
to Beersheba, were now assembled at Je- 
rusalem to the feast. It was then that 
Solomon proceeded to dedicate the tem- 
ple, and to fix the ark in its appointed 
place. The procession to the temple was 
grand and triumphant. Solomon, arrayed 
in all his glory, attended with the elders 
of Israel, and the heads of the tribes went 
before ; after him marched the priests in 
their sacerdotal robes, bearing the ark ; to 
them succeeded the four thousand sacred 
musicians, clothed in white robes, and di- 
vided into classes, some of them singing 
with the voice, others playing upon 
harps and trumpets, and psalteries and 
cymbals, and other instruments of music ; 
behind them followed the whole congrega- 
tion, with palms in their hands, rejoicing 
and wondering. Solomon had, on this 
occasion, made an oblation of twenty-two 
thousand oxen, and one hundred and twen- 
ty thousand sheep, of which the Almighty 
testified his approbation and acceptance, 
by causing the sacred fire to come down 
anew from heaven, and consume the sacri- 
fice. The Priests and Levites, as they 
went along, sprinkled the ground with the 
blood of the victims, and perfumed the 
air with frankincense and sweet odors. 
This, with the fumes of incense which rose 
in clouds from the altars, had diffused 
such a potent perfume through the air, 
that people at a distance reflected on the 
breath they drew as a celestial influence, 
and regarded the strains of harmony which 
they heard, as something more than mor- 
tal ; actually imagining that the God of 
the Hebrews had descended from his heaven 
to take possession of the temple which they 
had dedicated to his service. Nor were 
they mistaken. For after the priests had 
carried the ark into the holy of holies, had 
placed it between the cherubims, and had 
reverently withdrawn, the cloud of divine 
glory 'descended and rested upon the 
house. The Shechinah or divine presence 
took up its abode in the most holy place. 
Animated by this sublime occasion, the 
Psalmist begins his ode with celebrating 
the dominion of the Deity over this vast 
universe, and all its inhabitants, and set- 



ting forth their entire subjection to his 
power and providence. 

Verse 1. and 2. The earth is the 
Lord 1 s j and the fulness thereof ; the world, 
and they that dwell therein. — For he hath 
founded it upon the seas, and established 
it upon the floods. David ascertains the 
sovereignty of God over the world, and 
its subjection to him, from his having 
created it at first ; from his having estab- 
lished it upon the seas, and founded 
it upon the floods. By this he opposes 
the skeptics and infidels of those times, 
who withdrew nature from the Divinity, 
and denied the interposition of Provi- 
dence in human affairs ; by this he dis- 
tinguishes the God whom he adored, from 
the idols of the Gentiles around him, who 
were confined to one part or province of na- 
ture : by this he endeavors to inspire the 
J ews with gratitude and love to their God 
and King, who chose them from among 
all the nations whom he governs by his 
providence, to be his favorite people, the 
object of his particular providence, and 
peculiar loving-kindness. The Psalmist., 
next determines where that God whose 
perfections he had been describing was to 
be worshipped, and which of his worship- 
pers were to be the objects of his favor 
and approbation. 

Verse 3. Who shall ascend into the 
hill of the Lord ? and who shall stand in 
his holy place % It was usual among the 
Jews to add the name of God to any thing 
that was great, that was wonderful, and 
of which they would give us a high idea. 
Lofty cedars in Scripture, are called the 
trees of the Lord : high hills are called the 
mountains of God : wine, on account of 
its generous, joyous, and exhilarating 
qualities, is said to cheer the heart of God 
and man. In this place, the phrase is not 
to be taken in its usual sense. By the 
hill of God, is here meant the hill of 
Zion, which the Almighty had chosen to be 
the place of his worship, and where he had 
commanded his temple to be built. Near 
the same tract of ground there were three 
hills. Zion, where the city and castle of 
David stood ; Moriah, where the temple 
was built, and Calvary, where our Saviour 
was crucified ; but these, for the most 
part, went under the general name of 
Zion. By the phrases of ascending into 



176 



LECTURE II. 



the hill of Gk>d, and standing in his holy 
place, the Psalmist would point out the 
persons who are to be admitted to worship 
Gk>d in his temple here, and in conse- 
quence of that, to be received into the 
temple of his glory above, and to dwell 
for ever with the Lord. We have 
the character and qualities of these per- 
sons expressed in the following verse. 

Verse 4. He that hath clean hands, 
and a pure heart ; who hath not lifted up 
his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitful- 
ly. It is very observable, that in ascertain- 
ing the qualifications of the citizens of the 
spiritual Jerusalem, the Psalmist does 
not so much as mention the external ob- 
servances, the costly and laborious rites 
of the ceremonial law, in which the Israel- 
ites generally prided themselves, but 
dwells alone on the great and essential 
duties of morality, which are of universal 
and eternal obligation. The fond affec- 
tion and attachment of the Jews to the 
rites and ceremonies of the Mosaic law, so 
as to neglect other duties, is the more re- 
markable, as Grod, by the mouth of his 
Prophets, frequently declared that he had 
no pleasure in them, calling them precepts 
which were not good, and statutes by which 
a man could not live. In the fiftieth 
Psalm, we have an express declaration to 
this purpose ; " Hear, 0 my people, and 
I will speak ; 0 Israel, and I will testify 
against thee : I am Grod, even thy God. 
I will not reprove thee for thy sacrifices, 
or for thy burnt-offerings, to have been 
continually before me. I will take no 
bullock out of thy house, nor he-goats out 
of thy folds. For every beast of the for- 
est is mine, and the cattle upon a thou- 
sand hills. I know all the fowls of the 
mountains : and the wild beasts of the 
field are mine. If I were hungry, I would 
not tell thee, for the world is mine, and 
the fulness thereof. Will I eat the flesh 
of bulls, or drink the blood of goats ? 
Offer unto Grod thanksgiving, and pay thy 
vows unto the Most High, and call upon 
me in the day of trouble, and I will de- 
liver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." 
The qualifications here required are those 
of the heart and the life, " Clean hands 
and a pure heart." It is not enough that 
we wash our hands in innocence before 
men, we must be pure in heart before the 



eyes of infinite perfection. True religion 
is the religion of the heart ; it is a princi- 
ple dwelling in the mind, that extends its 
influence through the whole man, and reg- 
ulates the- life. Unless our religion enter 
into the heart, we have no religion at all. 
The form of godliness is insufficient 
and unavailing without the power thereof. 
We can never attain to the true beau- 
ties** of holiness, unless, like the king's 
daughter, we be all glorious within. On 
the other hand, when clean hands and a 
pure heart are united in the same person ; 
when a conversation without blame, and a 
conscience void of offence, coincide, they 
are in the sight of Grod of great price. A 
life sacred to devotion and virtue, sacred 
to the practice of truth and undefiled re- 
ligion, joined to a heart, pure, pious, and 
benevolent, constitute an offering more ac- 
ceptable at the altars of the Most High God, 
than whole hecatombs of burnt-offerings, 
and a thousand hills of frankincense in a 
flame. 

By lifting up the soul unto vanity, the 
Psalmist means making riches and honor, 
those vanities of the world, the object of 
our affection and pursuit ; saying to the 
gold, thou art our trust, or to the most fine 
gold, thou art our confidence. Or it may 
mean the worshipping of idols, which, in 
Scripture, go under the denomination of 
vanity, as in Jeremiah, " Are there any 
among the vanities of the Grentiles that 
can cause rain ?" Swearing deceitfully, in- 
cludes all manner of perjury. This vice 
is always represented in Scripture in the 
most dreadful colors. He that sweareth 
falsely, and he that feareth an oath, is an 
equivalent term for the wicked and the 
righteous. As an oath is the greatest 
pledge of veracity, and the end of all strife, 
general and ^customary violations of it 
must have the most pernicious effect upon 
society. Such a practice would entirely 
banish religious principles from the world ; 
it would dissolve the bands of society, 
it would shake the fundamental pillars of 
mutual trust and confidence among men, 
and destroy the security arising from the 
laws themselves. For human laws and 
human sanctions cannot extend to num- 
berless cases in which the safety of man- 
kind is essentially concerned. They would 
prove but feeble and ineffectual means of 



ON THE DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE. 



177 



preserving the order and peace of society, 
if there were no checks upon men, from 
the sense of divine legislation ; if no be- 
lief of divine rewards and punishments 
came in aid of what human rewards and 
punishments so imperfectly provide for. 
We have in the next verse, the rewards 
promised to the persons possessed of these 
qualifications. 

Verse 5. He shall receive the blessing 
from the Lord, even righteousness from 
the God of his salvation. This alludes to 
the appointed custom of the Jewish priests, 
who, on solemn and stated occasions, 
were wont to bless the people. Their form 
of blessing we have prescribed in Numbers 
vi. 22. " And the Lord spake unto Moses, 
saying, Speak unto Aaron and unto his sons 
saying, On this wise shall ye bless the 
people of Israel, the Lord bless thee and 
keep thee; the Lord make his face to 
shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; 
the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, 
and give thee peace." But as the priest 
was a fallible creature, his blessing might 
be indiscriminately bestowed, and fail of 
its effect. But the person who hath clean 
hands and a pure heart, who hath not lift 
up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn de- 
ceitfully, shall receive the blessing from 
God himself, whose favor is better than 
life, and whose blessing maketh rich, and 
addeth no sorrow. These blessings are 
summed up in the eighty-fourth Psalm, 
iL The Lord God is a sun and shield; the 
Lord will give grace and glory ; no good 
thing will he withhold from them that walk 
uprightly." Righteousness from the God 
of our salvation, may either mean the re- 
ward of righteousness, as the word in 
Scripture is frequently put for the reward; 
or it may mean kindness, mercy, and the 
benefits from righteousness, as in 1 Sam. 
xii. 7. " Now therefore stand still, that 
I may reason with you before the Lord, of 
all the righteousnesses of the Lord, which 
he did to you and your fathers : " where it 
is evident, from what follows, that by 
righteousnesses of the Lord, he means the 
deliverance that God had wrought for 
them. 

Verse 6. This is the generation of 
them that seek him, that seek thy face, O 
Jacob, or, O God of Jacob, as it might 
better be rendered. This is the genera- 
12 



tion, who, in obedience to the command- 
ments of God, and in the methods of his 
appointment, seek his face, that is, his fa- 
vor and friendship, and to whom he never 
said, " Seek ye my face in vain." 

Animated by his subject, the Psalmist 
proceeds to higher strains, and, in the sub- 
lime spirit of eastern poetry, calls upon 
the gates of the temple to open and admit 
the triumphal procession. 

Verse 7. Lift up your heads, O ye 
gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting 
doors, and the King of glory shall come 
in. To illustrate this part of the Psalm, 
we must take a short view of the Hebrew 
psalmody. The Psalms of David are of 
various kinds. Some of them are drama- 
tic, having speakers introduced making a 
kind of musical dialogue. Of this the 
ninety-first psalm is a remarkable instance. 
In the first verse, the high priest, rising 
up, declares the happiness of him who put- 
teth his trust in the Almighty. In the 
second verse, David himself, or one of the 
singers, representing the faithful among 
the Jews, declares his faith and confidence 
in God. From the third to the fourteenth, 
the ode was performed by the sacred sing- 
ers, both with the vdice and instruments of 
music. The three last verses were spoken 
by the high-priest alone in the character 
of God Almighty. 

Many of the Psalms are intended to be- 
sung by two divisions of the sacred singers, 
the chorus and the semichorus. Such is the 
Psalm before us. Every verse is divided 
into two members, exactly of the same- 
length, and generally representing the- 
same thought, expressed in a different- 
manner. " The earth is the Lord's and 
the fulness thereof ; — the world and they 
that dwell therein." When we come to* 
the seventh, the verse is evidently altered.. 
The verses are not divided into two mem- 
bers as before, and for a very good reason. 
The semichorus asked the question, and 
the chorus made the reply. Apostrophes,, 
or addresses to inanimate nature, are 
among the boldest figures in poetry, and 
when properly introduced, as in this place,, 
are in the highest manner productive of 
beauty. The simple thought, when strip- 
ped of its poetical ornaments, is no more 
than this : When the priests had carried 
the ark to the temple, Solomon ordered 



178 



LECTURE IIL 



the gates to be thrown open to admit the 
ark. How much this thought is improved, 
when embellished by the fine imagination 
of the singer of Israel, and clothed in all 
the graces of poetry, let persons of the 
smallest critical discernment judge. In 
short, the passage is too well known, and 
too beautiful, to need or admit of any il- 
lustration. Like the meridian sun, it shines 
in its own light, and to endeavor to adorn 
it, were wasteful and ridiculous excess. 

As we are assured by an authority that 
cannot err, that the ceremonies of the Jew- 
ish law were a figure of good things to come, 
and as the ark has been considered as 
a type of our Saviour, it is highly probable, 
that its introduction into the temple pre- 
figured to the faithful among the Jews, 
that solemn and triumphant period when 
our Saviour ascended into the heaven of 
heavens, to take possession of the glory 
which he had with the Father before the 
world was. 



LECTURE IIL 

ON THE PARABLE OF THE RICH MAN AND 
LAZARUS. 

Luke XVI. 19—31. 

19 There was a certain rich man, -who was clothed in 
purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day. 

20 And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus," who 
was laid at his gate, full of sores. 

21 And desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell 
from the lich man's table : moreover, the dogs came and 
licked his sores. 

22 And it came to pass that the beggar died, and was car- 
ried by the angels into Abraham's bosom : the rich man 
also died, and was buried. 

23 And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and 
seeth Abraham afar off", and Lazarus In his bosom. 

24 And he cried, and said, Father Abraham, have mercy 
on me. and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his 
finger in water, and cool my tongue ; for I am tormented 
in this flame. 

25 But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy 
lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus 
evil things : but now he is comforted, and thou art tor- 
mented.- 

26 And besides all this, between us and you there is a 
great gulf fixed : so that they who would pass from hence 
to you, cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would 
come from thence. 

27 Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father, that thou 
wouldst send him to my fathers house : 

23 For I have five brethren ; that he may testify unto 
them, lest they also come into this place of torment 

29 Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and the 
prophets ; let them hear them. 

30 And he said, Nay, father Abraham: but if one went 
unto them from the dead, they will repent 

31 And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the 
prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rose 
from the dead. 

The method of instruction by parables, 
was much in use among the eastern na- 



tions. Both physical and moral causes 
contributed to introduce and to support 
this custom. The people of the east have 
always been more under the government 
of the imagination and fancy, than the na- 
tions of the north. They use the liveliest 
and the boldest figures of speech in their 
ordinary conversation ; and their writings 
are all in the manner as well as in the 
spirit of poetry. What the influence of 
the climate made natural, the form of 
their government rendered necessary. As 
the form of their government has always 
been despotic and tyrannical, they were 
afraid to speak out their sentiments with 
openness and with freedom. Truth durst 
not approach the throne, nor appear in 
public. 

Such was the origin of parables. This 
method of instruction possesses many ad- 
vantages. It is obvious to all capacities, 
and has a charm for every hearer. It is 
well adapted to strike the fancy; it in- 
terests the passions, and thus makes a 
deeper and more lasting impression than 
mere moral instruction could convey. It 
likewise possesses one advantage peculiar 
to itself. It makes a man his own in- 
structor. When the parable is told, we 
ourselves draw the moral, and make the 
application. Observations and reflections 
that we make ourselves, are of more avail to 
us in the conduct of life, than any in- 
struction we can learn from others. 

The parable now before us contains 
many useful and important lessons. We 
have here represented two characters not 
uncommon in the world ; a rich man, who en- 
joyed the pleasures and the luxuries of life, 
and a poor beggar, who lived and who died 
in poverty and in distress. This man was 
a signal object of pity. He was a beggar, 
and he was full of sores. Notwithstand- 
ing this double call to sympathy and com- 
passion, the heart of the rich man was 
hardened against him. All the advantage 
he reaped from lying at the great man's 
gate, was, that his dogs, who had more 
feeling than their master, came and licked 
his sores. Nevertheless this rich man was 
not a miser. He was not a niggard of the 
gifts of Providence. He enjoyed life. 
He was arrayed in purple, which, in those 
days, was the vestment of kings. Hospi- 
tality presided in his hall, and luxury 



ON THE PARABLE OF THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS. » 



179 



reigned at his table. He made sumptuous 
entertainments for his friends, and he 
made them every day. He seems to have 
been one of that class of men, and a very 
numerous class they are, and very fre- 
quently to be found in life, who are very 
hospitable to those who do not want, but 
very unfriendly to those that do ; who 
prepare rich and splendid entertainments 
for those tribes of flatterers and sycophants 
who always crowd the mansions of the 
great, and at the same time have nothing 
to spare to a real object of distress. How- 
ever, he acted very agreeably to the prin- 
ciples of his sect; for, as we learn from 
the sequel, he was a Sadducee, or what 
in our days we call an infidel, that is, one 
who "iias no religion at all. He did not 
believe in the immortality of the soul. 
He did not believe that there was either 
a heaven or a hell. Accordingly, he en- 
deavored to make the most of this life, and 
acted up to the maxims of his sect, " Let 
us eat and drink, for to-morrow we shall 
die." 

Learn hence the folly and the danger of 
endeavoring to establish virtue upon any 
foundation but that of true religion. Peo- 
ple may tell us that social affection is the 
law of our being ; they may talk of virtue 
being its own reward ; they may sing the 
praises of disinterested benevolence ; but 
if you take away the rewards and punish- 
ments of the world to come, you set the 
greatest part of mankind free from every 
moral obligation, and open a door to uni- 
versal depravity and corruption of man- 
ners. If the beauty of virtue is laid in 
one scale, and interest in the other, it 
will not be difficult to determine to which 
side the balance will incline. 

The accusations of conscience will be 
little regarded, unless they are considered 
as an earnest of the worm that never dies. 
Take away the doctrine of a world to 
come, and you make this world a scene of 
universal depravity and open wickedness. 

At first view we would be apt to won- 
der at the ways of Heaven, and perhaps 
tempted in our minds to arraign the 
conduct of Providence, in crowning this 
worthless and wicked man with wealth 
and prosperity, whilst all that diversified 
the good man's lot was scene after scene 
of poverty and pain. But let us suspend 
our judgment. "We see but one link in 



the great chain of Providence. We live 
but in the infancy of being. The great 
drama of life is but begun. When the 
catastrophe is brought about, when the 
curtain between both worlds is undrawn, 
the morn will arise that. will light the Al- 
mighty's footsteps in the deep, and pour 
full day upon all the paths of his provi- 
dence. 

Verse 22. And it came to pass that 
the beggar died. He died, and all his 
miseries died with him. He whom this 
rich man would have disdained to have 
considered as his fellow creature, had a 
company of angels sent down to transport 
him to the regions of the blessed, to 'the 
bosom of Abraham, where all his sorrows 
had an end, and the tears were for ever 
wiped from his eyes. Let the needy and 
the oppressed take consolation from this 
salutary doctrine. With God there is 
no respect of persons. Let it be the 
great business of your lives to be rich in 
faith and in good works, and to lay up 
treasures in heaven, and then you may 
rejoice in hope, that though you have 
nothing here, yet yours is the kingdom 
of God. 

Verse 23. to 26/ inclusive. Before our 
Saviour's incarnation, the Greek language 
had made its way into Judea. Along 
with the language of the Greeks, their 
opinions in philosophy, and the fictions of 
their poetry, had been introduced, and 
made part of the popular belief. This 
part of the parable which we have now 
read, is evidently founded upon the fictions 
of the Grecian poets concerning the state 
of departed souls. They, as well as our 
Lord in this parable, represent the abodes 
of the blessed as lying contiguous to the 
regions of the damned, and separated only 
by a great impassable river, or deep gulf, 
in such a manner, that the ghosts could 
talk with one another from its opposite 
banks. In the parable, souls, whose bodies 
were buried, know each other, and con- 
verse together, as if they had been em- 
bodied. In like manner, the heathens 
introduce departed souls as talking to- 
gether, and represent them as having 
pains and pleasures analogous to what 
we feel in this life ; and they thought 
that the shades of the dead had an exact 
resemblance to their bodies. The parable 
says, that the souls of wicked men are 



180 LECTURE lit 



tormented in flames; the Grecian poets 
tell us, that they lie in a river of fire, 
where they suffer the same torments they 
would have suffered while alive, had their 
bodies been burnt. From this account, 
therefore, we are to draw no inferences 
concerning the real nature of heaven or 
of hell. A parable is no more than an 
instructive fable or tale, and the only 
thing to be regarded in it is the moral 
that it conveys. We cannot therefore 
conclude from this parable, that there is 
material fire in hell, or that the abodes of 
the blessed and the regions of the damned 
are contiguous to one another. The word 
of G-od gives us no materials wherein we 
can make a description either of hell or 
heaven. It was never the intention of 
scripture to satisfy our curiosity, but to 
influence our practice, and for that pur- 
pose to awake our hopes and our fears, by 
representing the one as being the region 
of the greatest torment, and the other as 
the scene of unmingled and everlasting 

The rich man died, and was buried. 
We read not of the burial of the poor man. 
He would be thrown into a common grave, 
and mingled with vulgar and obscure dust. 
But the rich man was buried with pomp 
and with splendor. Crowds of mercenary 
mourners would attend his funeral, and 
venal tears be shed upon his tomb. Every 
amiable and every respectable quality 
would be ascribed to him by those ready 
flatterers, who have always a character at 
hand for the deceased of quality. But, 
insensible to this incense, in hell he lift 
up his eyes. How astonishing and how 
awful must it be, my brethren, for a per- 
son who believes not in a future state, to 
receive his first conviction from the flames 
of the lake which burneth for ever, and 
from the gnawings of the worm that never 
dies. The request of the rich man is ve^y 
remarkable. He does not acknowledge 
the justness of his punishment, nor confess 
the greatness of his sins. He does not 
show any remorse of mind for the offences 
he had committed against God, for the in- 
juries he had done to society, or for the 
ruin he had brought upon his own soul. 
He had no sorrow for sin, he had only a 
feeling of pain. He did not want to be 
delivered from his guilt, but only from 
punishment. But such had been his char- 



acter in this world. The fact is, my 
brethren, we retain the same dispositions 
hereafter, that we cultivate here. It is 
utterly impossible, that the mere sepa- 
ration of the soul from matter, can make 
any alteration upon the essential qualities 
of the soul. We carry to the other world 
the same qualities, the same temper of 
mind, and the same character, that we 
have on earth. What manner of persons 
doth it become us then to be. As we now 
sow, hereafter we reap. Our heaven or 
our hell is already begun within us. The 
worm that never dies hath already begun 
to gnaw the heart of the wicked ; and the 
good man hath already begun those hymns 
and hosannas of praise which shall employ 
him through eternity. 

Son, remember that thou in thy life- 
time reccivedst thy good things. This 
answer of the Patriarch is remarkable fo.r 
mildness. When a person by his impru- 
dence and folly hath involved himself in 
a scene of distress, there is nothing more 
common than for those who visit him at 
such a time, to upbraid him with his by- 
past conduct in the severest manner, and 
to administer rebukes with acrimony and 
bitterness. Instead of giving their assist- 
ance to extricate him from his distresses, 
those miserable comforters push them 
deeper into the pit, and take a cruel plea- 
sure in adding affliction to the afflicted, 
conscious that whilst they are insulting 
over their unfortunate brother, they are 
paying encomiums to their own superior 
prudence and discretion. This rich man 
had brought himself into the last of evils, 
into an evil that admitted of no remedy, 
by his own wickedness. Yet Abraham 
did not address him in this severe and in- 
sulting language. He calls him son, his 
descendant according to the flesh. The 
good Patriarch wanted not to add to the 
horrors of hell. The spirit of rage and 
rancor never gains admittance into the 
bosoms of the blessed. This shows us 
how different the meek, the gentle, and 
the benevolent temper is from that cruel 
and merciless zeal which often passeth 
for it upon earth. 

His own petition being refused, the rich 
man now applies for his relations. Verse 
27. Then lie said, I pray thee therefore, 
father, that thou wouldst send him to 
my father's house. Let no wicked man 



ON THE PARABLE OF THE 



RICH MAN" AND LAZARUS. 



181 



boast himself of possessing some virtues 
amid the number of his crimes. You 
see there is even some goodness in hell. 
The rich man retained still some affection 
for his brethren, and had a desire for their 
conversion. Though they had been par- 
takers with him in his sins, he did not 
want them to be partakers of his punish- 
ment. The repetition of the request 
shows he was in earnest. 

Verse 31. Neither will they be per- 
suaded, though one rose from the dead. 
As this is a point of great consequence, it 
requires to be illustrated at some length. 
Let us suppose, that in order to convince 
a person of the immortality of his soul, 
Almighty God sent one of his deceased 
friends, either in his unembodied state, 
or with the same body he had in life. As 
no person would require such a proof, but 
one who was very much addicted to skep- 
ticism, it is very probable, that even then 
his doubts would not be removed. He 
might say, this may be an impostor, per- 
haps this may be some evil spirit who has 
assumed the shape of my deceased friend. 

But let us suppose that these doubts 
are removed, that he is convinced of the 
reality of the apparition, and the truth of 
a future state. Let us then see what 
effect it would have upon his life. He 
goes into company. He tells the story of 
the apparition to his companions. They 
hear it with derision and ridicule, and 
consider him as a visionary enthusiast, 
disturbed in his imagination. As the ex- 
perience of all mankind is against him, 
and the laws appear to be fixed for ever, 
of no intercourse between this world and 
the next, in whatever companies he tells 
it, it meets with the same treatment, and 
all the effect of the apparition is, that it 
makes every one to conclude him to be 
beside himself. You all know how dim- 
cult it is to remain single in opinion 
against the whole world. It is still harder 
to become the object of laughter and ridi- 
cule ; so that with these difficulties in his 
way, it is ten to one but he falls in with 
the opinion of the world, and believes the 
apparition to have been the phantom of 
his own fancy. That this is not a mere 
conjecture, but what would really happen, 
appears from undoubted matter of fact, 
that did really happen. You remember 



the history of Saul. "When the Lord 
would not answer him by his prophets, he 
went in quest of a woman who had a fa- 
miliar spirit. She raised up to him an 
apparition, which he believed to be the 
ghost of Samuel the prophet. The appa- 
rition assured him that his kingdom was 
departing from him, and that he had only 
one day longer to live. What effect had 
this upon the king ? Did he repent of his 
sins? At first he was sore afraid, and 
was melancholy ; but through the persua- 
sion of his attendants, he soon resumed 
his joy ; and, on the morrow after the 
battle was lost, in order to fulfil the pro- 
phecy of the devil, he proceeded to com- 
mit the most deliberate crime that can be 
perpetrated by man : he raised impious 
hands against his life, and plunged his 
sword in his own breast. 

The fact is, my brethren, mankind are 
not always in a mood to be convinced. 
In spite of speculative opinion, men act 
from their passions, and bad passions will 
always produce bad actions, to the end of 
the world. The reluctance of mankind to 
assent to evidence, when it makes against 
their preconceived opinion, is remarkably 
apparent in the reception the Jews gave 
to our Saviour. All the prophecies con- 
corning the Messiah were fulfilled in him. 
He appeared in the world in the precise 
time predicted for the coming of the 
Messiah ; he was descended of the lineage 
of David ; he was born in the city of Beth- 
lehem. A prophet went before him in the 
spirit and power of Elias. He performed 
miracles and mighty works, which no man 
could perform. But after all these proofs, 
after all these miracles, the Jews, who ex- 
pected their Messiah to be a temporal 
Prince, still demanded more evidence. 
" Show us," said they, " a sign from hea- 
ven." A sign from heaven they obtained. 
Now, in the presence of multitudes, a voice 
came from heaven, the voice of the Eter- 
nal, piercing the clouds, and proclaiming 
aloud, " This is my beloved Son ! " Were 
they then convinced ? No : they perse- 
cuted him with reproaches in his life, and 
at last brought him to an ignominious 
death. And when they had nailed him 
to the accursed tree, they still affirmed 
they would believe on him on proper evi- 
dence. " Let him come down from the 



182 



LECTURE IV. 



cross, and we will believe on him." If he 
had come down from the cross, the re- 
demption of mankind would have been de- 
feated, as it was to be accomplished by 
his death ; but he did more than come 
down from the cross. He rose from the 
dead. Did they then believe on him? 
No : they charged the soldiers who 
brought them the news of his resurrection, 
to give out that his disciples stole him 
away while they slept. Well then may 
we adopt the maxim of the Patriarch 
Abraham, and affirm, That if ye believe 
not Moses and the Prophets ; if ye believe 
not Christ and his Apostles ; ye will not 
be persuaded though one rose from the 
dead. 



LECTURE IV. 



ON THE PARABLE OF THE FOOLISH VIRGINS. 



Matthew XXV. 1—10. 

1 Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten 
■virgins, which took their lamps, and went forth to meet the 
bridegroom. 

2 And five of them were -wise, and five were foolish. 

3 They that were foolish took their lamps, and took no 
oil with them : 

4 But the wise took oil in their vessels -with their lamps. 

5 While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and 
slept 

6 And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the 
bridegroom cometh ; go ye out to meet him. 

7 Then all those virgins arose, and trimmed their lamps. 

8 And the foolish said unto the wise, Give us of your oil, 
for our lamps are gone out. 

9 But the wise answered, saying, Not so ; lest there be 
not enough for us and you: but go ye rather to them that 
sell, and buy for yourselves. 

10 And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came ; 
and they that were ready, went in with him to the mar- 
riage ; and the door was shut 

In a former lecture, I explained to you 
the nature, the origin, and the use of 
parables. They were the common vehi- 
cles of instruction among the oriental 
nations, l^he wisdom of the east loved 
to go adorned with flowers and with 
figures, and by means of the imagination 
to make its way to the heart. This mode 
of instruction was frequently honored by 
our Lord's adopting it. Accommodating 
himself to the practice of the east, and 
to the manners of the Jews, he wrapt up 
his wisdom in this veil, and delivered his 
doctrines to the people in parables. As 
men are much under the guidance of the 
external senses, and strongly impressed 
by the material objects around them, he 
who knew what was in man, and who laid 



hold of every avenue to the human heart, 
frequently addressed himself to this part 
of our frame. He spiritualizes the whole 
system of nature, he turns the most com- 
mon and familiar occurrences of life into 
vehicles of Divine truth, and in the gen- 
tlest and most insinuating manner, leads 
us from earth to heaven. 

In the parable which I have now read, 
the kingdom of Heaven, or dispensation 
of the Glospel, is likened to a marriage 
solemnity. On such occasions it was a 
custom among the J ews, that the bride- 
groom, in company with his friends, came 
late in the night to the house of the bride, 
where, upon a signal given, she and her 
bridemaids went out in procession to light 
him into the house, with great ceremony 
and splendor. It is said that Jive of these 
virgins were wise, and that five of tJvem 
were foolish. I explained to you, on a 
former occasion, that, in a parable, we are 
not to apply particular expressions, but to 
consider the intention and design upon 
the whole. If we understood and applied 
this expression literally, we should be led 
to conclude that, under the New Testa- 
ment, the number of the good and of the 
bad was equal. But to settle this point, 
to ascertain the number of those who are 
to be saved, and of those who are to be 
damned, was not the intention of our 
Lord in the parable. For, by the same 
way of arguing, we might infer from the 
parable of the talents, which immediately 
follows this, that the number of the good 
was double the number of the wicked, as 
there were two faithful servants who im- 
proved the talents committed to them, for 
one slothful servant who wrapt up his in 
a napkin ; and in the parable of the mar- 
riage supper, in the foregoing chapter, 
amongst all the number of the guests who 
were called to the feast, there was only 
one who wanted the wedding garment : 
only from this general scheme of thought 
which runs through all our Lord's parables, 
from their being always framed with a 
view to the charitable side, we may safely 
draw two conclusions. In the first place, 
Let us always form a favorable judgment 
concerning the character and state of those 
who are externally decent, whether they 
agree or differ from us in opinion ; and, 
if we do err, let us err on the side of 
charity. There are a set of men to be 



ON THE PARABLE OF THE FOOLISH VIRGINS. 



183 



found in the world, who are remarkably 
fond of passing sentence and judgment 
upon the external state of their neighbors, 
and in passing this judgment, they attend 
not so much to the general tenor of life, 
and integrity of conduct, as to the system 
of doctrines which a man believes, and 
the sect or part} 7 in which, he arranges 
himself. Unless you believe in every 
point precisely as they do, down you go 
in their estimation. 

Rash and profane mortal, who gave thee 
a commission to fix the mark of election 
and reprobation upon men ? Did Almighty 
God depute thee to draw the line betwixt 
the kingdom of darkness and the kingdom 
of light, to fill the heavens, and to people 
hell ? We are astonished, and stand aghast 
at the boldness and impiety of the Roman 
Pontiff, who pretends to open and to shut 
the gate of mercy, and who arrogates to 
himself the keys of the kingdom of hea- 
ven. And yet thou who accusest him, art 
thyself equally guilty. Thou rushest unto 
the throne of the Eternal, and darest to 
direct the thunders of the Divine ven- 
geance. Thou prescribest bounds to the 
mercy of the Omnipotent, and sayest to 
his saving grace, " Hitherto shalt thou 
come, and no farther." Vile worm ! dost 
thou not tremble at thine own impiety ? 
Fall prostrate in the dust. Shrink into 
thine own insignificance. Let thy time 
be employed in working out thine own 
salvation, rather than in dealing of dam- 
nation to thy neighbors. 

At the same time, though I condemn 
this rage which some men discover to con- 
demn their neighbors, as, in my opinion, 
entirely inconsistent with the genius of 
the Gospel, and the spirit of Christianity, 
nevertheless I would not go into their ex- 
treme, and pass the same sentence on them 
which they pass upon others. To pass a 
judgment upon characters is a difficult 
task, and requires a very delicate hand. 
We ought to distinguish what flows from 
a narrowness of mind, from what flows 
from a badness of heart. We ought to 
make great allowances for the prejudices 
of education. If a man be educated in 
the belief, that none are to be saved but 
those who believe every article of that 
system which he embraces ; if his judg- 
ment concerning the characters of men 
rest not upon the goodness of their lives, 



but upon the soundness of their belief, 
such a man's charity must be narrow and 
constrained. And this may sometimes be 
owing, not to the badness of his nature, 
but to the badness of his religious prin- 
ciples. And I have sometimes seen such 
persons, though I must acknowledge very 
rarely, striving and struggling to get the 
better of their system; the heart and the 
affections true to Christianity, whilst the 
mind was enslaved by the prejudices of 
education. 

Verse 3. They that were foolish took 
their lamps, and took no oil with them. 
The foolish virgins seemed at first to re- 
semble the wise, and shone out for a while 
with the same lustre. They made the 
same profession and appearance at first. 
Themselves were awake, and their lamps 
were burning. But they had no supply 
for the future. Their goodness was like 
the morning cloud, and soon vanished 
away. They had no real religion in the 
heart. They wanted that inward prin- 
ciple of grace, which can alone enable us 
to stand fast in the Lord. They were not 
rooted and grounded in the faith. They 
had no steady principles of conduct, nor 
settled habits of action. Like the seed 
which was sown in the stony ground, they 
forthwith sprang up, because they had no 
deepness of earth, and when the sun arose 
they withered away. 

But the wise took oil in their vessels 
with their lamps. They sought and ob- 
tained the influences of the Divine Spirit 
to abide with them through life. They 
made a serious business of religion. They 
laid up a store of useful knowledge. They 
acted upon fixed and steady principles, 
and acquired habits of religion and virtue. 
They kept the heart well, knowing that 
out of it are the issues of life. They 
looked forwards to the time to come ; they 
provided against the evil day, and extend- 
ed their view to take in all the tempta- 
tions and afflictions of human life. 

Verse 5. While the bridegroom, tarried, 
they all slumbered and slept. Whether 
we interpret this coming of the bride- 
groom, to be the second coming of our 
Lord to judge the world, or whether we 
apply it to our appearance before his tri- 
bunal at death, is a subject of no conse- 
quence ; the material point to be consider- 
ed is, that while the bridegroom tarried, 



184 



LECTURE IV. 



all of them, the wise as well as the foolish 
virgins, slumbered and slept. The wise 
grew remiss and careless, and the spiri- 
tual life declined within them. The 
foolish virgins returned again to foolish- 
ness, and because the Lord delayed, be- 
cause sentence against an evil work was 
not speedily executed, were fully bent to 
do evil. Seeing then that the wise virgins 
slumbered as well as the foolish ; seeing 
that good men, as well as bad men, may 
fall into sin ; a question, a very serious 
one, naturally arises : how shall we dis- 
tinguish between those temporary relaxa- 
tions in the Christian race, into which a 
good man may fall, from the final apostasy 
of the wicked ; how shall we distinguish 
between the sins of infirmity, into which 
the best men may fall, from those sins 
which are unto death ? And to this I beg 
your attention, as one of the most impor- 
tant subjects which can ever occupy your 
thoughts. In order to decide this ques- 
tion, Let me ask you, in the first place, 
What was the nature of your relapse into 
sin ? There are times in which all men 
feel religious impressions and devout dis- 
positions of mind. The seed is sown in 
stony places, as well as on the good 
ground. The influences of heaven de- 
scend on the barren desert, as well as on 
the field which is to be fruitful. On such 
occasions, the seed which was sown on 
the stony places will spring up for a time, 
and the barren desert will seem to bloom. 
To speak without a figure, the Spirit of 
God in one manner or another, in his com- 
mon or in his special influences, descends 
upon all men. After such times of refresh- 
ing, the saint of a day, as well as the per- 
severing Christian, will receive the word 
with gladness, and set about a thorough 
reformation. And as both of them receive 
the word with gladness, so both of them 
are subject to sin. Yet they are not 
alike in their errors. The sinner having 
no real principle at bottom, having no 
fixed plan of life, and but doing every 
thing by fits and starts, may, at the first 
approach of temptation, advance with 
swift steps to ruin. But the true Chris- 
tian, laying his account to meet with hard- 
ships and temptations, prepares against 
them, and will not wholly fall off. The 
coward may at once desert his post, and 
fly from the banners of the Captain of 



salvation, to the standard of the prince 
of darkness : but the good soldier of 
Jesus will make head against the enemy ; 
he will encounter his spiritual foe ; he 
may be foiled for a moment, but he will 
never be subdued. 

In the second place, Let me ask you, 
what is the state of your mind during 
these relapses ? Are you in total subjec- 
tion to the sins which have dominion over 
you ? Is your conscience lulled in a pro- 
found sleep ? Do you roll iniquity like a 
sweet morsel under your tongue ? Do 
you find the ways of sin to be ways of 
pleasantness, and all her paths to be peace ? 
Is your bondage sweet, and are the chains 
of your captivity become pleasant to you? 
Then I pronounce that there are no symp- 
toms of spiritual life within you; then 
your sleep is unto death. But, on the 
other hand, is the dominion which sin has 
over you, against the bent of your soul ? 
Whilst you sleep, does your heart wake ? 
During your captivity, is your face to- 
wards Jerusalem ? Do you lament the 
deceitfulness of your heart, the feebleness 
of your resolutions, and your own impo- 
tence to save yourself ? Do you strive to 
burst asunder the bands which detain you? 
Then there is hope in Israel concerning 
you. 

In the third place, Let me ask you, 
what is the nature of the sins into which 
you fall ? Are they contrived beforehand, 
deliberate ? Do you commit them with 
coolness and with consideration ? Or are 
you led astray on a sudden by the strength 
of temptation, and power of prevailing 
passion ? The best of men are subject 
to the impulse of passion ; may yield to 
the strength of temptation, and be over- 
taken in a fault. But he is a wicked man 
who sins upon a plan • who makes a sys- 
tem of iniquity ; who contrives scenes of 
mischief upon his bed, and who rises to 
execute with ardor what he has contrived 
with coolness. If the sun goes down upon 
thy wrath, or any other bad passion ; if 
day unto day uttereth speech of your evil 
deeds ; if night after night findeth you in 
the service of sin, then you are a sinner 
indeed, then you are in the gall of bitter- 
ness and in the bond of iniquity. 

Let me ask again, What are the sins 
that most easily beset you ? The sins of 
men may be divided into two classes. 



ON THE TRANSFIGURATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 



185 



The one kind flows from a good principle 
wrong directed, from the perversion and 
abuse of laudable inclinations ; the other 
kind flows from evil principles and a bad 
heart. Of the latter kind, are malice, 
envy, treachery, cruelty, malignity, deceit, 
and hypocrisy. These indicate a mind 
which neither fears God nor regards man. 
The best Christians will at times fall into 
sins ; but they will never harbor in their 
heart the dark offspring of hell. They 
may have the failings and the faults of 
men ; but they will never have the crimes 
of devils, nor the spirit of the damne-d. 

Verse 6. At midnight there was a cry 
heard. At midnight, the hour of silence 
and repose, when the operations of nature 
seemed to stand still, and all things were 
at rest, when there was no expectation of 
any event, then was the cry heard, then 
was the alarm given — Behold the bride- 
groom cometh, go ye out to meet him I 
And indeed, my brethren, it often hap- 
pens, that our last hour comes unexpect- 
ed. When we are busied in some favor- 
ite scheme, when we are laying a scene of 
happiness which we expect will last for 
years, the awful voice comes, " This night 
thy soul shall be required of thee." I 
mention not this as if I thought it one of 
the evils of life. If we are prepared to 
die, a sudden death must be the most 
agreeable of all. The servant who is doing 
his duty, will be agreeably surprised at an 
unexpected visit from his master. The sol- 
dier whose arms are crowned with conquest, 
would be happy if his prince should sud- 
denly come to be the witness of his victory. 

Verse 7. Then all those virgins arose, 
and trimmed their lamps. Their lamps 
were not gone out, though they were 
not burning bright. They soon arose 
and trimmed them, to meet the bride- 
groom. A good man is always habitually 
prepared for death. He has an inter- 
est in the righteousness of his Redeemer, 
which purchased life and immortality to 
men ; and he is possessed of those good 
and holy dispositions which fit us for the 
inheritance of the saints in light. Such 
a person is ever in a state of preparation 
to meet with his Lord. 

Verse 8. And the foolish virgins said 
unto the wise, Give us of your oil. Mark 
here, my brethren, the triumph of reli- 
gion. Wicked men at the last envy the 



state and the happiness of the good, and 
desire to partake in it. There is a time 
coming when those who scoff at religion, 
and laugh at every thing that is serious, 
will gladly say to those humble and con- 
trite ones whom they now despise, " Give 
us of your oil." " Let us die the death 
of the righteous ; let our last end be like 
his." " Would to God our souls were in 
your souls' place." Feeble and ineffectual 
wishes ! which discover their misery, but 
which cannot save them from it. 

Verse 9. Lest there be not enough for 
us and you. There are no works of super- 
erogfcion. After we have done all, we 
are unprofitable servants ; and though we 
were perfect, we can assign no part of our 
righteousness to you: " go to those that 
sell. 1 '' Go to the ordinances of Divine ap- 
pointment ; improve those means of grace 
which you formerly despised ; break off 
your sins by repentance ; who knows if it 
be yet too late ? — C cetera desunt. 



LECTURE V. 



ON THE TRANSFIGURATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 



Luke IX. 28—36. 

28 And it came to pass, about an eight days after these 
sayings, he took Peter, and John, and James, and went up 
into a mountain to pray. 

29 And as he prayed, the fashion of his countenance "was 
altered, and his raiment was white and glistering. 

30 And behold, there talked with him two men, which 
were Moses and Elias ; 

31 "Who appeared in glory, and spoke of his decease which 
he should accomplish at Jerusalem. 

32 But Peter, and they that were with him, were heavy 
with sleep : and when they were awake, they saw his 
glory, and the two men that stood with him. 

33 And it came to pass, as they departed from him, Peter 
said unto Jesus, Master, it is good for us to be here ; and let 
us make three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for Moses, 
and one for Elias : not knowing what he said. 

34 While he thus spake, there came a cloud, and over- 
shadowed them : and they feared as they entered into the 
cloud. 

35 And there came a voice out of the cloud, saying, This 
is my beloved Son, hear him. 

36 And when the voice was past, Jesus was found alone : 
and they kept it close, and told no man in those days any 
of those things which they had seen. 

In these verses, we have an account of a 
very remarkable event. Our Saviour hav- 
ing foretold his sufferings and death, in 
order to keep alive the faith and hopes of 
his disciples, who would be apt to despair 
under that mournful event, also foretold 
them, that some of their own number, 
before their departure, should behold him 



186 



LECTURE V. 



coming in his kingdom. " But I tell you 
of a truth, there be some standing here, 
which shall not taste of death till they see 
the kingdom of God." 

As an accomplishment of this prediction, 
he takes his three favorite disciples, Peter, 
James, and John, and having carried them 
to an high mountain, was transfigured be- 
fore their eyes, that he might give them 
some idea of the glory of that kingdom to 
which he was afterwards to ascend. The 
mountain here mentioned, by tradition, is 
Tabor, a hill of great beauty, and, accord- 
ing to Josephus, very high. 

Many magnificent events in the L^Fine 
dispensations, have been transacted on 
hills. It was on mount Sinai that God 
descended to give the law : it was on the 
hill of Moriah that he commanded Isaac 
to be sacrificed : it was on the hill of Zion 
that he ordered the temple to be built : 
from the mount of Olives, Christ was wont 
to send up his prayers to Heaven ; and on 
the mount Tabor he was transfigured, and 
appeared in glory to his disciples. This 
is founded upon nature. There is an air 
of grandeur in a lofty mountain, that loses 
itself in the heavens, and casteth its sha- 
dow into distant lands, which accords 
with the natural greatness of the soul, and 
awakens a feeling that is highly favorable 
to devotion. The grandeur, the awfulness, 
the silence, and the solitude of the scene, 
assist sentiments of religious adoration. 
Remote from man, and exalted above the 
turbulence of the inferior world, we breathe 
celestial air, we feel divinity more present, 
and bow down and worship in the temple 
not made with hands. Hence men, actu- 
ated by their natural feelings,- and under 
the impressions of religious awe, have so 
often been guided to erect their temples 
upon hills, and to consecrate to the Deity 
such places as those, on which he had ap- 
peared, and where his footsteps were seen. 

We are told, that our Saviour went up 
to this mountain to pray. Christ began 
all his great works with prayer to Heaven. 
Before he entered on his public ministry, 
he retired into the wilderness, and devoted 
forty days to contemplation and prayer. 
When he was about to suffer his last 
agony, he went and prayed in the garden. 
And here, when he enters upon his trans- 
figuration, he went up to a mountain to 
pray. Illustrious example of piety and 



devotion ! worthy the study and imitation 
of the world. If the eternal Son of God, 
the -Mediator between God and man, who 
had no errors to be corrected, who had no 
sins to be forgiven, and who had few wants 
to be relieved, if he entered upon no im- 
portant work without prayer to Heaven, 
if he spent whole nights in the fervor of 
devotion, shall men, shall feeble, indigent, 
and sinful men, dare to attempt works of 
importance, or rush into scenes of danger, 
without lifting up their eyes and hearts to 
Heaven, and imploring the protection 
and assistance of Providence? And yet 
it is to be dreaded that there are many 
persons who go under the name of Chris- 
tians, who live in the constant and habit- 
ual neglect of this duty, who go out and 
come in, who rise up and lie down, without 
once bending the knee to the God of Hea- 
ven, and who, unless on this returning day, 
when they join in the public devotions of 
the Church, never acknowledge their de- 
pendence upon God. Far be such conduct 
from you, my brethren. 

Peter, James, and John, were also 
chosen as the witnesses of our Saviour's 
agony. If they rejoiced with him on mount 
Tabor, they also suffered with him in the 
garden of Gethsemane. And indeed it 
seems to be one of the general laws by 
which this world is governed, that those 
who have the highest enjoyments should 
also have the deepest afflictions. Provi- 
dence has wisely balanced human affairs, 
and set the day of prosperity against the 
day of adversity. The most enchanting 
hopes give rise to the most mortifying dis- 
appointments ; the most transporting en- 
joyments end in the crudest lassitude and 
disgust ; and the highest honor is succeed- 
ed by the lowest disgrace. The same 
lively passions and fine feelings .that give 
the greatest relish to prosperity, give also 
the severest smart to the wounds of ad- 
versity. 

The transfiguration itself is next relat- 
ed. The evangelists seem to vie with one 
another in describing the glories of this 
scene. During this period, we are told, 
the fashion of his countenance was alter- 
ed ; his face did shine as the sun, and 
his raiment was ivhite as the snow. 
When Moses received the law upon mount 
Sinai, his countenance shone in such a man- 
ner that the Israelites could not behold 



ON" THE TRANSFIGURATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 



187 



him. But a greater than Moses was here ; 
and he was invested with greater majesty. 
The splendor of his Divinity shone through 
the veil with which it was clouded ; he re- 
assumed some rays of that glory which he 
had with the Father before the world was ; 
and he stood confessed the Son of the 
living God. 

To heighten the grandeur and the so- 
lemnity of the scene, Moses, the giver of 
the law, and Elias, the greatest among the 
Prophets, descended from heaven, and con- 
ferred with him concerning his kingdom. 
It is usual for the chief ministers of a 
kingdom to resign the seals and badges of 
their authority to their successors in office. 
Thus, Moses and Elias, who had been the 
ministers of the kingdom of God under' 
the Old Testament, the one representing 
the law, the other representing the pro- 
phets, resigned their authority to Jesus 
Christ, who was to reign for ever and ever. 
Had we, my brethren, been present 'on the 
mount of transfiguration, been spectators 
of this wonderful scene; had we beheld 
the glorified spirits of Moses and Elias, 
arrayed in the robes of heaven, and adorn- 
ed with the beauties of immortality ; had 
we beheld the Son of the Most High 
clothed with uncreated light, and appear- 
ing in the glories of Divinity unveiled ; 
had we heard the voice of the Almighty 
proclaiming from the overshadowing cloud, 
This is my beloved Son, hear him ; would 
we not have been thrown into that delight- 
ful amazement of soul that trance and 
ecstasy of spiritual joy, which the disciples 
were in when they cried out, not knowing 
what they said, Lord, it is good for us to 
be here ; let us build three tabernacles, one 
for thee, one for Moses, and one for Elias ! 

The evangelist tells us, that the disciples 
were heavy with sleep, or rather heavy as 
with sleep ; and Mark says that they were 
sore afraid. Frorfl comparing them to- 
gether, it appears to have been a rapture 
and an astonishment that suspended all 
the powers of the soul, with a stillness 
similar to sleep. The sublime appear- 
ances which they saw struck a sudden ter- 
ror into their minds, and occasioned that 
ecstasy of soul which holy men were gen- 
erally in when they were favored with the 
visions of God. Moses and Elias were 
properly chosen as messengers to our 
Saviour, and witnesses of his transfigur- 



ation, as both of them were eminent types 
of Christ, acceptable to God for their faith 
and holiness, and admired by the Jews 
their countrymen, for the miracles which 
they had performed. Both of them were 
admitted to conference with God in Horeb ; 
both of them had fasted forty days ; both 
of them had divided the waters ; they had 
been both the messengers of God to Kings ; 
and as they were marvellous in their lives, 
so there was something extraordinary and 
miraculous in both their departures. 
Moses died at the commandment of the 
Lord, and was buried in a place which no 
man knew. Elias, without seeing death, 
was translated to heaven in a chariot of 
fire. 

When this celestial triumvirate had as- 
sembled, what was the topic of their con- 
versation ? Did their discourse run upon 
the fate of empires and the fall of kings ? 
Did they converse about the progress of 
the human genius, about the improvements 
of society, the inventions of art, and the 
discoveries of science ? Did they talk of 
the glories of that heaven from which they 
had descended, or attempt a description 
of those mansions above, whose beauty 
eye hath not seen, and whose joys ear hath 
not heard ? No, my brethren, an event 
greater than all these engaged their atten- 
tion. They talked of that decease or 
departure which our divine Redeemer 
was to accomplish at Jerusalem. The 
prospect of suffering an ignominious and 
an accursed death, had always appeared 
to our Saviour a circumstance of distress, 
and filled him with dismal forebodings of 
mind. As the event drew nearer, these 
forebodings increased. The prospect of 
being forsaken, denied, and betrayed by 
his friends ; of being mocked and tor- 
tured and crucified by his enemies ; the 
terrors of the hour and power of darkness ; 
the agony in the garden; the horrors of 
the cross ; the assault of devils and wicked 
spirits ; and, far above all, the hiding of 
his Father's countenance, and drinking the 
cup of the wrath of God ; these were cir- 
cumstances of tremendous suffering, suffi- 
cient to have overwhelmed his human na- 
ture with horror and despair. 

But as an angel was sent to comfort him 
in the garden, so here two illustrious saints 
descended from heaven to allay the terrors 
of that decease which he was to accomplish 



188 



LECTURE Y. 



at J erusalem. They might represent his 
passion to him as entering into the councils 
of heaven before the world began ; as the 
hope and expectation of all the patriarchs 
and prophets and righteous men under the 
law ; as the accomplishment of all the pro- 
phecies delivered to the Old Testament 
Church ; as the fulfilment of all the types 
and prefigurations of the Mosaic institu- 
tion ; as the consummation of the legal 
economy, and period of the Jewish Church; 
and as the commencement of a new age 
and higher order of events. They might 
place it before his eyes as confirming his 
doctrine from above ; as magnifying the 
law and making it honorable ; as rendering 
glory to Grod in the highest, and restoring 
peace on earth, and good-will towards men; 
as conquering the principalities and pow- 
ers of darkness, and setting open the gates 
of paradise for all the faithful to enter in. 
They might set it before his eyes as the 
means of overthrowing the kingdom of 
Satan ; as diffusing light and life and sal- 
vation through the world; as uniting the 
nations in the bonds of charity and love ; 
as being the great theme to the Church 
universal under the Xew Testament ; as 
affording a subject for new hymns and an- 
thems to the heavenly host ; as reaching 
beyond the circle of time, and drawing 
hosannas of praise from the heirs of im- 
mortality, through the round of everlast- 
ing ages. These considerations would 
comfort our Redeemer under the forebod- 
ings of his passion : and the prospect of 
the joy that was set before him would ani- 
mate and strengthen him to endure the 
cross, to despise the shame, and to finish 
the work which the Father gave him to do. 

Seeing then that the death and passion 
of our Saviour is an event of such infinite 
importance, let us, my brethren, make it 
the theme of our praise, and the subject 
of our contemplation. Let us frequently 
call to mind that scene which mount Cal- 
vary beheld, the sufferings that our Saviour 
there endured, the groans that he uttered, 
and the blood that he shed on our behalf. 
Let us dwell on that marvellous love which 
moved him to undergo such unutterable 
agonies, till we feel its transforming power 
and efficacy, and are changed into the same 
image from glory to glory : that so the 
cross of Christ, which was to the J ews a 
stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolish- 



ness, may become to us the wisdom and 
the power of God. 

Yee.se 36. And they kept it close, and 
told no man. Though they were so high- 
ly favored of their Lord, allowed to be- 
hold him in the glories of his future king- 
dom, and to hold converse with two illus- 
trious messengers from the mansions above, 
nevertheless they made no merit of the 
preference that was shown them, and even 
concealed from the world that they were 
distinguished from the rest of the apostles. 
Such, my brethren, is the uniform conduct 
of good Christians. The manifestations 
of heaven only inspire them with humility. 
He is but a novice in the school of Chris- 
tianity, who is puffed up by any privileges 
which he has attained. Greater degrees 
of grace, and higher attainments in virtue, 
banish all self-conceit and spiritual pride. 
This holds in other matters as well as in 
religion. The pretender always outdoes 
the real character. The actor always ex- 
ceeds nature, and goes beyond the life. 
In friendship, those who have least of the 
reality, have generally most of the appear- 
ance and pretence. Men of the greatest 
talents and abilities appear in conversation 
but like other men ; whilst fools and cox- 
combs assume those airs of superiority, and 
that tone of solemn pedantry, which 
amazes the ignorant. This holds even in 
infidelity itself. Those wretches, who set 
their mouths against the heavens, and pro- 
fess open impiety, are generally hypocrites 
in wickedness, who believe and tremble 
when alone, and are in the horrors when- 
ever they are left in the dark. 

Beware therefore of a form of religion 
without the power thereof. The voice of 
true piety is not heard in the streets. She 
sounds no trumpet before her, affects no 
appearances, and lays claim to no distinc- 
tions. Those persons are always to be 
suspected who cov^t the public eye ; who 
make a show of their sanctity, and who en- 
deavor to dazzle the world with the pomp 
and the parade of godliness. Let men 
discover your piety and virtue ; do not you 
discover them yourselves. There is all 
the difference in the world betwixt being 
exemplary and being ostentatious. When 
the angels descended of old, they were in 
form and appearance like men ; but when 
the devil appeared, he transformed himself 
into an angel of light. 

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